Born in 1966
Born in the year 1966,
It was a hippy society
with hippies and chicks.
Now if I add my birth
numbers up minus the one,
I’m pretty sure that’s how it’s done.
Anyways, it comes to the number 44,
They say it stands for Atlantis
in it’s ancient forklore.
Now I was around during Atlantis time,
I had to die for committing no crime.
I probably wrote a “peeve” poem
making a political statement that rhymed.
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Related quotes
Born in 1966
Born in 1966
Born in the year 1966,
It was a hippy society
with hippies and chicks.
Now if I add my birth
numbers up minus the one,
I’m pretty sure that’s how it’s done.
Anyways, it comes to the number 44,
They say it stands for Atlantis
in it’s ancient forklore.
Now I was around during Atlantis time,
I had to die for committing no crime.
I probably wrote a “peeve” poem
making a political statement that rhymed.
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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Voyage To Atlantis
Can I go on my way without you
Whoa...how can I know
If I go on my way without you
Whoa...where would I go
Set sail with me
Misty lady, set my spirit free
New love to find
And though I leave another behind
I'll always (Come back to you)
I'll always (Come back to you)
I'll always (Come back to you)
I'll always (Come back to you)
She's my lady, now and ever
Whoa...how can I know
Can we go all the way together
Whoa...let it be so
So we'll say our last goodbye
And we'll it this time
Hey...ho...set sail with me
To a paradise out beyond the sea
Atlantis (Is back to you)
I'll always (Come back to you)
Atlantis (Is back to you)
I'll always (Come back to you)
Atlantis (Is back to you)
I'll always (Come back to you)
Atlantis (Is back to you)
I'll always (Come back to you)
Atlantis (Is back to you)
I'll always (Come back to you)
I'll always (Come back to you)
I'll always (Come back to you)
song performed by by Isley Brothers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Numbers
Its stranger how some numbers
keep recurring in our lives.
At first, we do not notice it
until one day we think of them.
Our date of birth, houses numbers we have lived in,
our children’s birth date
and our brother or sister’s date of birth.
When you look at them
and one number seems to readily appear,
you begin to wonder if that number
has some bearing on our lives.
The number linked to my life is number 8.
I was born on the 18th,
in Canada the house I grew up in was 28
and my sister was born on the 18th.
Moving to England our house number was 62.
When my wife and I got married,
our first house was 24,
our second house was 18
and our present house number is 107.
My wife’s birth date is the 8th;
my son was born on the 17-8-71.
Everywhere I look the number 8 just keeps popping up.
Coincidence I guess you could call it,
or is there something else a foot.
I will just let you the reader to decide.
3 September 2009
Author’s note.
The evening I wrote this, my wife went out, was talking to someone, and mentioned how the number 8 always appeared in our lives.
Coincidence?
poem by David Harris
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Damon Runyon Did You Know?
Damon was born October 4,1880
I was born 4,18th 1966
Damon died at age 66 years of age
I was born in year 1966.
He died in year 1946,
I almost died at age 46.
He wrote a play 'Guys and Dolls'
I write poems about a 'Guy'
and I have a 'Doll' as a main character.
He writes about Sarah Brown
I write about Sarah Star.
His family is from New Jersey
My family is from New Jersey.
Did you know we have a lot in common,
I could go on.
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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What They Will Say
Some times, I wonder if I write for the future.
That may seem like a strange statement to make.
Forty-three years ago, I wrote a poem
that at the time no one wanted to know.
Now it is my best-loved poem
read by countless people around the world.
Thirty years ago, I wrote two poems
and each one won me an award,
but at the time I wrote them,
no one wanted to know.
All of which makes me wonder
if what I wrote in my yesteryears
that then none wanted to know.
Could they all be popular now?
Today I started collecting and retyping
short stories I wrote twenty years ago.
At the time, publishers and agents
didn’t want to know.
Now twenty year on
I am wondering what they will say.
24 January 2009
poem by David Harris
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Zero Covers All
Lately I realize.
I am a numb number,
living through life.
First child.
Date of birth.
Sixth star of twenty-seven.
Scorpio numbers six of twelve.
Studied tenth class,
Then 5-year’s graduation,
Every class I had a scroll number.
Exams written on id number.
Studied law.
Head churning three years,
with numbered sections.
Penal code, constitution.
Clauses of law in numbered sects.
Registered in bar council.
Legal practice.
Case files are numbered.
Subsequently I got,
House number, door number.
Phone number.
Mobile number.
Account numbers.
Credit card number.
Pan card number,
Folio numbers,
Car number,
License number,
Policy number,
Health card number,
Election card number,
Passport number,
Ration card number,
Ultimately, when you put me in morgue,
allotted me a number.
Which, I do no know.
However, I know a number.
I am a big zero.
It covers all my life
Yes, we discovered zero.
What a relief?
Does it not cover all?
fulfill all values!
By the way your number please?
X number or N number?
Infinite numbers.
________________
poem by Satheesan Rangorath
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Needle Time
I wish that I didn't hate you
Least not as much as I do
And squander all my contempt for
A little nothing like you
Liars like you are ten-a-penny
Women would slap you, if you knew any
Sometimes I feel just like committing a crime
I've got this suitcase of phony wisdom to dispense
These twenty-seven or so years
You'd think I (would have) made them some cents
Now they want me fingerprinted
Like I was smuggling drugs
While the government does deals with the most convenient thugs
Sometimes I feel just like committing a crime
It's Needle Time
I'm trying not to despise you with a passion that is hard to extinguish
Or maybe I really love you
Although it's hard to distinguish
I wish I could be
A little more like a saint is
Forgiving those who trespass against us
Sometimes I feel just like committing a crime
I started talking nonsense, just like I did to begin with
Around the time I tired of those sour English
Sometimes I feel just like committing a crime
It's Needle Time
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Solo Flights
Woke up to the scary fact that I have no
book to read, after completing household
chores ran off to Tall Stories, second-hand
bookstore, got hold of "From Atlantis to the
Sphinx" by Colin Wilson, left on a quest for
ancient wisdom led by John Anthony West
assisted by Robert Schoch, palaeontologist,
travelling to rain-weathered Sphinx, studying
the Piri Reis Map detailing Antarctica before
ice covered everything; my loved ones mes-
merised watching great rugby wars on TV -
while I'm taking solo flights to pre-history…
"From Atlantis to the Sphinx" by Colin Wilson,
Virgin Books 2000
pp 1-108
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Numerical Tyranny
Who conspired
this needless need for
the numbers?
Now we all live in fear of
the numbers
tremble at the feet of
the numbers
live our lives according to the demands of
the numbers
Identify ourselves by
the numbers
we've sold ourselves short with
the numbers
locked ourselves in a cell with
the numbers
no one believes they can escape
the numbers
our status our worth
our health our happiness
all dictated by
the numbers
Who are you?
Are you just another
number?
For if only we could see the truth behind
the numbers:
the truth being
there is only one number
that number is one
and that one stretches on
through infinitude.
poem by Gregory Allen Uhan
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Poseidon
Poseidon
(Return To Atlantis II)
(Follow the warm and subtle breeze,
as it will show you life under the seas…)
Travel to any destination along the coast,
here an old and undying love does boast.
Stroll on the beach and watch the tide,
and you will realise two worlds confide,
see how the water fondly caresses the sands,
my daughter held snugly in my hands.
I was born below the crashing waves,
it was there that I built my conclaves.
Deep under the water you will find,
the secret of the birth of mankind,
from beneath the oceans rolling surf,
my sea servants gave life to the Earth.
Around the island of Atlantis,
my wife; Amphitrite, and I did kiss,
from there she swam to the surface,
came upon the shore and birthed Artemis,
there my daughter made the land her domain.
Now an outcast by her servants of global fame,
I try to soothe her as she has lost her home,
as her woodland heart is now replaced by stone,
so I send out a plea to you from under the sea,
oh please will you return my daughter to me.
poem by Dale Mullock
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Atlantis
In that ocean.
Wide eyed and deeper in your gaze,
And bluer than the bright that's in the cave.
There is a city,
Came out from you, Atlantis
In ruins, sunken below the waves
But in the city,
Where there is no one.
What's the point of being free, eh?
When there is nothing there to tie me down,
Oh, no more here.
The bluest city,
Covered in coral and coral,
On sea chests,
And sealed Jamaician tales.
There is nobody
To count the soldiering meandering whales,
With a shoal of herring amongst the sails.
But in the city,
Where there is no one.
What's the point of being free, eh?
When there is nothing there to tie me down,
Oh, no more here.
There is the city Atlantis.
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Not a Poem Poem
A Not a Poem Poem
I will not write a poem
For I am not a poet
I cannot makes things rhyme
I’ve tried for quite some time
So will I write a poem?
NO!
I can’t write poetry
I’ve tried to all my life
Once, I tried to write a poem
About a husband and his wife
It sounded really silly
So I crumbled it up into a ball
That’s why I decided
That I couldn’t write poetry at all
Am I gonna write a poem?
NO!
Well, I’ll try to write a poem
But it will be really bad
It will be absolutely lousy
It will be completely horrible
It won’t be up to snuff
People will say, “Who wrote this stuff? ”
Will my poem be good?
NO!
Can I write a poem?
NO!
Will I write a poem?
NO!
Well, what do you know! ? !
I wrote a poem!
And it’s a pretty good poem, too!
I guess I can write poetry if I try
The next time I’m asked to write a poem,
Will I say no?
NO!
Demetrius and Antillia - The Final Demise of Atlantis
Demetrius and His Father, the Greek Fishermen were
gone fishing one hot Summer day,
when what to their eyes behold.
in a ship of solid gold
By the Trident of Neptune, A MERMAID!
Demetrius swam to her rescue
and escorted her back to his humble abode,
where He and his father were dining on the days catch.
Yet Antillia was a stubborn little mermaid.
Truth be told, she was a princess, and the Heir to the throne of Atlantis.
And she commandeered Demetrius Ship and set sail for home.
But Demetrius caught her just before she got away.
And was the ship captain.
'These Inventions of which you speak. SOrceries.'
'NO Demetrius, science.'
Yet that mattered not, under the full moon on the ocean sea, they fell in love.
She was a devious mermaid princess, and had a plan.
The Ship reached shore. The plan went off like clockwork.
Demetrius was taken prisoner and held in the dungeon.
Antillia ran to her father, King Kronas, Old Father Time.
And spoke of Demetrius to her father. YEt her father had become weak as a king and as a man.
Yet Demetrius was special. For he was foretold in the Writings of old.
Those Atlantean writings in the time before time of Atlantis.
And he survived, with his new friends.
The King and his noble court met.
One of his noblemen stood.
'Noblenem. Sire. Long before the founding of Atlantis it was written in the stars
that a greek fisherman would reach our shoures, and survive.
That prophecy is fulfilled. And that with this prophecy's fulfillment the final collapse of Atlantis woudl commence.
Our only hope to survie is to attack Greece and her allies and attack them soon.
Lest atlantis be destroyed.'
and all but one, the Priest of God called for war.
To no avail however.
Demetrius and his fellow slaves commandered the ship and returend to Greece, the land of peace,
His lady, Antillia, heiress to the Atlantean Throne, the would be Queen of Attlantis,
accompanied him, and gladly so.
Atlantis was destroyed in one day and one night.
Demetrius and ANtillia returned to Greece with the former atlantean slaves
Demetrius made her his queen. Not of an empire, yet of a lowly greek abode.
a small hut by the mediterranean.
They could not have been happier.
they had many children.
they were so happy.
poem by Psychobillyrogue 312
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If you keep straying with unhappiness (in answer to Koos A. Kombuis)
If you keep straying with unhappiness
and take the beauty out of everything
are looking for evil in everything
your life turns into a miserable story
you are wandering through the desert
where your tears disappear,
you are scorched
while the sun is shining overwhelming for others
you find thorns on the most beautiful flower,
are already old, before age sets in,
as if you are cursed by a spell
that gives words even if your are dumb
and you break Afrikaans down to clay,
as if nothing have to remain of that language and people
and you take LSD and who knows what
to find life in something
and to you life is a lost dream
as if it is allotted to another man, another guy
and your trousseau and love is buried
where nobody can explore
and you are in your own whirlpool.
[Atlantis in jou lyf (Atlantis in your body) by Koos A. Kombuis.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Zero One Slash Seventeen Slash Zero Nine
he does not like to use numbers
and so all his numbers are letters
and all his thoughts in numbers
are written in letters including the
date when his poem is written
making it the very title of the same
and all his emotions are in letters
even though he knows that each
feeling has a corresponding number
and even the colors are numbered
in letters. Blue is the number four.
Nine is class. Forty-seven is pride.
ninety-nine is not perfect and
one hundred is too much for an
old aging man like him who likes
to arrive at zero and then enjoy
his much needed rest. He likes to
be happy and wants to sleep, so he
begins to write, one, two, three, four,
five, six.... and so on and so forth.
autistic savant, they all call him.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The ancient Britons had a singular kind of marriage, to be met with among no other people. Any number of them, as ten or a dozen, joined in a society together, which was perhaps requisite for mutual defence in those barbarous times. In order to link this society the closer, they took an equal number of wives in common; and whatever children were born, were reputed to belong to all of them, and were accordingly provided for by the whole community.
David Hume in Of Polygamy and Divorces (1826)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Fibonacci Rabbits
Fibonacci travelled wide
to learn from Arab scholars wise,
Number tricks and how beside
to guess a rabbit warren's size.
1202 he wrote his view
that if you start with just one pair,
Month's end doubles that to two,
the parents and twin babies fair.
Babies take a month to grow
but parents still on loving spree,
Extra siblings now in tow,
at end of month, the numbers three.
First born twins are now mature
and into mating overdrive,
Adults four, and none demure,
by end of month the pairs are five.
Now the pattern can emerge
just add each number to the last,
Two months later numbers surge
since five plus eight makes thirteen fast.
Year's end sees the figures soar
I think I've rightly done the sums,
Seven hundred fifty-four
is tallied counting fluffy bums.
*Fibonacci Sequence Poem*
R uff
A rsed
B onking
B unnykins
I ndiscriminate
T humpitty-humpitty-trysting
S upercalifragilisticexpiali Doe.
Note: Syllable count of consectutive lines is 1,1,2,3,5,8,13.
Note: I apologise for the 'a' word
poem by Diane Hine
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No, I come for a hippy lifestyle, it's very open; my parents are both hippies.
quote by Shia LaBeouf
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hippy Hippy Shake
For goodness sake,
Ive got the hippy hippy shake.
Ive got the shake,
Oh the hippy hippy shake.
Oo I cant keep still
With the hippy hippy shake.
I get my fill
With that hippy hippy shake.
Oo my babe,
Auw the hippy hippy shake.
Well now you shake it to the left,
You shake it to the right.
Do the hippy shake shake
With all of your might.
And you shake.
Oh you shake.
Oo my babe.
Auw the hippy hippy shake.
Well now you shake it to the left,
You shake it to the right.
Do the hippy shake shake
With all of your might.
And you shake.
Yes you shake.
Oo my babe.
Auw the hippy hippy shake.
Au the hippy hippy shake.
Yeah the hippy hippy shake.
Oh yeah.
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Poem Is A Poem
As I sat in my room,
On my little desk chair,
I began to feel
A hint of despair.
I had for my homework,
A poem to create,
And if it wasen't done then,
It would have been late.
My school, my dog,
A tree or my home,
Which of these subjects,
Should I choose for my poem?
You can see for yourself,
That my problem was bad,
No poem could I think of,
My; this was sad.
As I sat there and gazed,
A thought came to mind:
A poem is a poem,
Just as long as it rhymes.
So I wrote down some words,
And tossed them around,
Until they rhymed nicely,
And had a smooth sound.
My poem was all finished,
My homework all done,
It wasen't bad after all,
It even was fun!
Longfellow, Whitman,
Robert Frost too,
I've discovered there secret
That all of them knew.
A poem is no problem,
It takes not much time,
You write down your thoughts,
In a way that will rhyme.
poem by Sarah Stopka
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