Cloud
I walked on it,
Squished it just a bit.
Decided to fly.
To touch the sky.
Flew I did.
Giggled like a little kid.
The people below me waved me bye.
I waved back in reply.
I stopped after a while.
Landed in a pile
Of softness.
Bye.
poem by Chandler T Cruz
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Related quotes
Rachel and You and The Day Trip
It was a day trip out
to some seaside place
arranged by the Gospel church
for kids whose parents
were poor
and having got on the coach
you sat in a seat
by the window
and waved at your mother
standing on the pavement
along Rockingham Street
and she waved back
then this girl sat beside you
who you didn't know
and she smiled and said
all right if I sit here?
sure
you said
and looked back out
at your mother
and waved again
and she waved back
and you thought
who is this girl?
and why is she
sitting next to me?
and she looked at out
the window
and waved to her mother
who started talking
to your mother
and they both waved back
to you and the girl
and you said
do you want to sit
by the window?
and she said
ok yes that'd be nice
and so she got out
and you got out
then she got in
and sat
by the window
and you sat
down beside her
and then the coach
started up
and drove off
and you both waved
at your mothers
until they were out of sight
and the girl turned
and said
I'm Rachel
this is my first time
to the seaside
and you said
you can walk around
with me if you want to
and she said
that'd be good
I don't know
anyone else here
and so she did
all day
walked around with you
along the beach
and on the sands
making sandcastles
and in the cafe
where they took you all
for a meal
of fish and chips
and she talked
and talked
and smiled
and laughed
and once she took
hold of your hand
and it seemed
for a while
that she was happy
at least it seemed so
by the width of her smile.
poem by Terry Collett
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A Flying Cow
Millie Moo Cow was grazing
in a field on day
when her fairy godmother
came to pay a visit to her.
Millie you are a good old cow
and your days are not yet through.
If I had wish for you
what would that wish be fore?
Millie chewed at her cud
and thought for a bit.
I would like a pair of wings
so I could fly like the birds
and then I could find the green fields
with all the tenders shoots to graze upon.
The fairy godmother waved her wand
and on Millie, two beautiful wings grew.
Millie flapped her new wings
and into the sky, she flew.
As she, few around she caused quite a stir.
Looking down she remembered
all those who had tormented her.
Now she had wings she could get her revenge.
She dived and did a somersault
and then began her bombing run
laying on them cow pats big and round.
People ran for cover as Millie flew on by.
Tiring of her games in a green field, she landed.
Her fairy godmother wasn’t pleased.
You were only supposed to look for green fields
not go bombarding people with your poo.
For your bad behaviour,
I’m taking your wings away from you.
She waved her magic wand again
and Millie’s wings were gone.
The moral of this story is
when they say do unto others as they do unto you.
You will be punished
so go do it first.
poem by David Harris
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I saw her in the mirror
She was right there
And waved back when I waved at her
I saw her in the mirror
I told her how badly I missed her
And that how bad my days were
I saw her in the mirror
I could see her crying
But no cries I could hear
I saw her in the mirror
She kept staring all the while
And then she came closer
I wanted to touch her
feel her
But she fell
and broke into pieces
and lay right there
Now I see her no more
And she is no more
I saw her in the mirror
poem by Nabil Bhatiya
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Beyond the Art
Dad only had a month to live.
I peeked in to tell them goodnight.
Mom was painting. She stopped to give
Me a kiss. 'Your Dad will be all right.'
Next morning, both my folks were gone.
Perhaps they went out for some air.
Mom's new painting was sitting on
Its easel. Mom's class touch was there.
Mom's grace, Dad's strength - what a combo,
For forty years, husband and wife.
I touched the canvas. Where'd they go?
And then the painting came to life.
A couple walked along the sea.
Mom and Dad smiled and waved to me.
The Girl Who Held Your Hand
You got on the coach
for the day trip
organized by the chapel people
for kids who were poor
and this girl
sat next to you
and said
you can be my boyfriend
for the day
and she took hold
of your hand
and gave it a squeeze
and you looked out
of the window
at your mother
standing there
looking up at the coach
and you thought
is this part of the deal?
Is this girl for real?
And Mother waved
and smiled
and you smiled
uneasily back
with the girl’s hand
holding yours
out of sight
and she looked
over your shoulder
and waved
but no one
waved back to her
because her mother
wasn’t there
maybe she was off somewhere
or had to go to work
or maybe
she was still in bed
with another uncle
beneath the sheets
and maybe
he was holding her hand
and she was holding
something you never knew
or cared about
just sitting there
waving to Mother
beneath a sky of blue.
poem by Terry Collett
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Last Time I Saw Him
(michael masser/pam sawyer)
Last time I saw him
He sweetly kissed my lips
Last time I saw him
He said:Ill be back for more of this
Last time I saw him
We were crying at the bus
I knew he hated leaving
But he had to set us up
I gave him money
I know I invested well
Mamma doesnt trust him
But he loves me I can tell
Each time the greyhound
Arrives at nine o clock
But I dont start my crying
till that last mans gotten off
Last time I saw him
Last time I saw my honey
Last time I saw him
He was greyhound-bound
But Im still waiting here
Without a fear
That bus will someday turn around
I had no letter
Its been six months, maybe better
I try forgetting him
But I love him more then ever
I have decided
Ive waited long enough
If there was nothing wrong
He would return right on that bus
There must be trouble
So Im leavin on the double
If he cant get to me
I know he needs me desperately
Last time I saw him
Last time I saw my honey
Last time I saw him
He was looking fine
And as he waved goodbye
He said dont cry
Im coming back, no rain or shine
Last time I saw him
Last time I saw my honey
Last time I saw him
He was greyhound-bound
And as he waved goodbye
He said dont cry
Im coming back, no rain or shine
La de da, la da do
Do la da da, da da da
Last time I saw him
He was looking fine
And as he waved goodbye
He said dont cry
Im coming back, no rain or shine
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A New Journey...
As the youngest spread
Wings in the literal sense
And waved both hands
After clearing the security check,
We both waved back and sighed
And evaded looking in the other’s eyes.
Then I quietly slipped my hand
In his arm, and pushed my brand
New bag on wheels towards
The domestic departure lounge.
To catch our flight to Goa, the land
Of magic, beaches and sand.
To get reacquainted all over once again,
And a new journey of new possibilities began.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Dream On
Dark road.
Radio on.
Late night
turning into
early morning
day.
The two of us,
sharing a
joint,
on our way,
to imaginary
better place.
Having finished
it,
you flick the butt
out the window.
We were talking about
something indifferent
when I,
in a moment of silence,
cut in:
' - I wonder when
I came home
last night! '
“ - I’m damned tired! ”
I told you.
You did not
reply
so I reckoned
you had not heard me.
I tried again:
“ I wonder when
I came home last night”
“I’m damned tired! ”
only this time louder,
so loud,
in fact,
I woke myself up
to sunshine through
palm leaves.
“What you say? ”
asked the two
piece bikini girl
in the hammock
next to me.
I turned to her
and smiled,
explaining it
to her
as best as I could
in the language
of black haired
chocolate tanned
beauties
“Oh, you dream”
she said, smiling.
“Guess I did”
I replied.
“Want go swim? ”
she asked me.
I shook my head
and yawned.
“Perhaps later..”
She got up,
kissed me,
and walked off.
I watched her walk towards
the ocean:
young perfection
in motion.
halfway there
she turned,
and waved
at me.
I waved back.
I then grabbed
this
pen and paper
to thank you
in the language of
old friends,
a century +
years later.
Thanks Friend.
Thanks for the ride.
Thanks.
poem by Carsten Thomsen
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The Omen
The Omen
I heard the sound of a plane looked up
a big carrier going north, it was white
and had an orange tail.
In one of its portholes my brother sat
looking out he had a serious face and
I think he was day-dreaming.
I waved he took his glasses off polished,
and put them back on, politely waved
too, but I don’t think he saw me clearly.
The plane vanished into a cloud of fine
woven air, I listened to its silence till a
crowing crow in a tree broke the hush.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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The Challenger Seven
I remember when they waved goodbye,
and left the earth behind
A roar, then an explosion
Indelible in my mind.
That crew was a mosaic
Of America that year;
White, Black Female, Asian
All represented here.
There was a teacher on the flight
Her school kids looking on
How hard then to explain to them
That Mrs. McAuliffe’s gone.
.Like Drake upon the Ocean
of an earlier place and time.
They died while on a mission
to expand the human mind.
They waved goodbye that morning
Slipped the surly bonds of sod
And set out on their journey
To touch the face of God.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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The Window
Little Sophie sat by her window
on every single day,
just looking for someone
with whom she could play.
The streets were full of people
but none of them she knew.
She waved at them as they went by
and some of them waved too.
But they were busy people
going everywhere.
None of them had time for play,
no time to spare.
Her sisters and her brother
all went to school.
She could not go. She was only four
and that was against the rule.
So by the window Sophie sat
and one day someone smiled.
It was a mother passing by
with her little child.
And after several days of this
a knock came at her door.
It was the mother with her child
who also was just four.
The mother said 'My little one is lonely.
She needs a friend like you.'
So Sophie clapped her hands and said
'I know what we can do.'
And so they played for hours
and then her friend did say
'Can we sit by your window
and wave to people today? '
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The First Lure Of Spring
Everything is already wonderful.
I can hear, this morning, the songs of the birds,
Which are charming Mother Nature. Two beautiful
Butterflies landed on my windows. Four hummingbirds
Waved, while practicing their new dives.
This season brings a lot of high fives,
And a lot of hope. At the high school,
Back then, young people became really cool.
They started to find each other's smile.
All of a sudden, everyone was trying a new style,
And listening to new songs, that brought a new happiness
In a world surrounded by insecurity and sadness.
Spring is here, let's keep her here forever.
Let's smile more, be kinder to each other,
And do our very best for Mother Nature.
poem by Hebert Logerie
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My dream ended before seeing it
It was raining cats and dogs
She was drenching in the rain all alone
I was watching seeing her agony
Finding a way so that she looks at me
My efforts didn’t go in vain
Ultimately she looked at me
I smiled at her, she waved at me
My heart jumped in joy,
Ran fast to be near her
Rain had stopped, I said hello to her
She responded by a hi to me
Suddenly A car stopped on the side
She didn’t say a word and sat inside
I could neither cry nor say bye to her
My dream ended before seeing it
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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A Man Walks The Streets
That old man near the traffic light
Was expelled from home at midnight.
He walked away steady on his feet.
And made his home on Delhi streets.
My driver whispered in a resigned tone.
I looked up putting down my mobile phone.
He carried on his shoulder a jute bag,
And in his hand a clean yellow rag.
As the traffic light blushed red,
The driver to stop compelled.
The old man near the traffic light,
Asked the driver –may I wipe?
He had a gentle voice and even stride,
Erect back and manner polite and mild.
Now this was his new means of livelihood,
He hoped to be paid to pay for some food.
Sahibs waved him away on their way
Down town, gearing for charades and play.
A little girl offered the man her lunch box.
Their eyes met, he looked flummoxed.
I lost my grandpa early last summer,
He went without having his supper.
You remind me somewhat of him.
Although a bit thin, she grinned.
They laughed, tears in their eyes
He took it with a bow she waved bye.
She turned and called back, Dadu
Will you be here tomorrow too?
The old man near the traffic light
Said, sure dear, I’ll be here all right.
Turned heavenwards, saw a bird alight
A rainbow walked the earth in day light?
He unabashedly cried, cried and cried,
‘I had thought my tear glands had dried’.
He wiped his face on his shirt sleeve,
A rainbow on a dreary day, I sure do believe.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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She was in the profession
She stopped her work at her lawn when she saw me
and leaned over the fence and we talked for over two hours
with my elbow on her posts and my feet resting
against the palings.
She had worked forty years in the same profession
and had seen generations through the doors. She
had enjoyed her work and people still call her to
tell her about themselves; they express their gratitude
and how much of a difference she had made.
She walked down the fence, waved her arms
and returned to the corner where I stood.
But what was work for?
she asked.
Forty years doing what was good for others
but nothing that was good for myself.
What was work for? she sighed.
What were forty years for? It destroyed me.
(from The Migrant - notes of a newcomer (February 1997- July 1998))
poem by Raj Arumugam
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Forever young
I saw boys driving away to war
in a Ratel-90 armoured car
and they were well trained,
ready for action
and called up for military service
against their will.
Two smiled and a few
waved goodbye
and there was dirt
in my eyes,
when my armoured car
caught speed.
Enemy battle tanks were everywhere
and we fought right through the night
and with first light
an armoured car was stuck
in a mine field
and they were hoping for the best
but the worst was there
and shot out they paid the cost.
Although the enemy
paid a much higher price
and lost,
it’s like yesterday that they
waved goodbye
and sacrificed in vain
their lives for people
that does not honour them
and remain forever young.
poem by Gert Strydom
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My Moon
Once you talked
from your sleepy eyes
Then smiled from your
cold heart?
And suddenly waved
like in semaphore.
If you have decided to say
Good bye so soon
Then why did you
invite this nameless
little star to your
dreamy sky
My Moon?
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Free
I saw you all lined up
at the totem pole
hovering
You
waved at me-
waved me away-
ignoring the Tsunami
washing over me
Ho Ho Ho
is what they called me
and I never unsaid
what I knew
wasn't true
and I let it lie.
Oh, Oh, Oh
I live within
the word prison
they created for me
and out of spite
and self-defense
I defy the prison
walls
and write this poetry.
My My My
that's sweet revenge;
I'll live
I'll live
writing more
poetry
and then
one day
the rubble
will
disintegrate
disintegrat e
into walls
no more.
And I'll be free
free, free, free.
Ho, Ho, Ho.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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The Poem Pals
When I woke up, I looked outside and what a sight I saw
There was no place for them to hide near to my neighbour's door.
The Poem Pals were back again! With poems in their hands
That God has sent out to all men and women in His lands...
When they saw me, they waved hello! I waved back and made tea.
I asked them in to get to know what was the mystery...
They told me straight, 'He's busy now, his T.V.'s on the blink!
And so us guys he won't allow, he's hardly time to think...'
So off I went and they went, too, 'Good luck! ' they said and smiled.
The problem sorted, he said, 'Phew! ' and calmed down, now quite mild.
I told him of the Poem Pals, 'They visit me as well,
They're full of wonders, full of tales, what stories they could tell! '
'You see them, too? ' He was amazed! 'Oh, yes, they're all my friends! '
'Thank God for that! ' he quickly praised, with no need for pretence!
They stood in line, the first one in, his poem now to share,
So that my neighbour could begin to make the world aware...
The poem penned, we watched him leave with smiles upon his face!
Another poem to receive from God above by grace.
The second guy came with his verse, as proud as proud could be,
With extra time he could rehearse, reciting perfectly...
The third guy ran inside at last, determined to be heard,
I'd never seen him run so fast, now he could read each word!
The fourth guy walked in, bid good day explaining what to write
And then when done, he walked away, his face a pure delight!
The fifth guy was hilarious, his poem made us laugh!
Not one of us stayed serious as he walked down the path.
The sixth guy walked in bold as brass, saluted us in turn,
As if he thought we were first class, with nothing left to learn...
The last guy heaved a long, long sigh... for sad his poem was.
It told why Jesus had to die upon the cruel cross...
His poem was the best of all, of that there was no doubt.
It shared the Gospel by Saint Paul, who loved the Lord throughout.
So finally, we said goodbye, the Poem Pals all gone...
My neighbour's spirit soaring high, because God's light had shone.
The Poem Pals would call again, so poets could be blessed,
In time, to be Fishers of Men, who seek to do their best...
Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2012.
This is a follow-up poem to The Impatient Poem:
tinyurl-dot-com/the-impatient-poem
poem by Denis Martindale
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Behind Tinted Windows
They had said they were riding,
Behind tinted windows.
And waving to me...
As I walked along the street.
I did hear horns honking.
But I did not separate,
One horn meant for me.
Between sirens whizzing by...
And folks talking as loud as could be,
I was out to enjoy my stroll...
Not seeking a familiarity,
Under every nook and cranny!
Or...
Looking through faces,
For anyone I knew!
To chance I might meet...
An opportunity to disturb my peace!
They had the nerve to say,
They were behind tinted windows.
And honked and waved at me!
Then began rumors,
I was stuck up!
An ungrateful and egotistical,
And an undeserving s.o.b.
Well...
At least they could have stopped,
So I could add spice to the slander.
Incite my own defamation!
Leave them with much attitude...
To prove to them I do agree!
I am determine to keep,
My peace with me!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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