Coloring Book
Each picture is heartbreakingly banal,
a kitten and a ball of yarn,
a dog and bone.
The paper is cheap, easily torn.
A coloring book's authority is derived
from its heavy black lines
as unalterable as the ten commandments
within which minor decisions are possible:
the dog black and white,
the kitten gray.
Under the picture we find a few words,
a title, perhaps a narrative,
a psalm or sermon.
But nowhere do we come upon
a blank page where we might justify
the careless way we scribbled
when we were tired and sad
and could bear no more.
poem by Connie Wanek
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Picture Book
Picture yourself when youre getting old,
Sat by the fireside a-pondering on[? ].
Picture book, pictures of your mama, taken by your papa a long time ago.
Picture book, of people with each other, to prove they love each other a long ago.
Na, na, na, na, na na.
Na, na, na, na, na na.
Picture book.
Picture book.
A picture of you in your birthday suit,
You sat in the sun on a hot afternoon.
Picture book, your mama and your papa, and fat old uncle charlie out cruising with their friends.
Picture book, a holiday in august, outside a bed and breakfast in sunny southend.
Picture book, when you were just a baby, those days when you were happy, a long time ago.
Na, na, na, na, na na.
Na, na, na, na, na na.
Picture book.
Picture book.
Picture book.
Picture book.
Picture book,
Na, na, na, na na,
Na, na, na, na na,
A-scooby-dooby-doo.
Picture book,
Na, na, na, na na,
Na, na, na, na na,
A-scooby-dooby-doo.
Picture book, pictures of your mama, taken by your papa a long time ago.
Long time ago,
Long time ago,
Long time ago,
Long time ago,
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I still have a problem with nuns. I follow them around like a kitten with a ball of yarn. After a while, all my characters become very close friends.
Alphabet A Was Once An Apple
A was once an apple pie, apple apply papply
B was once bouncy ball, bally bally bouncy ball
C was once a little cat, catty couty catty little cat
D was once little dog, doggy dagy doogy little dog
E was once soaring eagle, eagly giggly soaring eagle
F was once littlel fox, foxy faxy little fox
G was once little goat, goaty gooty little goat
H was once a litlle hen, heeny hanny little hen
I was once black ink, inky inniky black ink
J was once funny jester, jestary jesteery funny jester
K was once little kitten, kitty katty little kitten
L was once a little lama, aama leemy a little lama
M was once wild moose, moosy masa wild moose
N was once tiny nut, nutty natty tiny nut
O was once orange, rangy rongy little orange
P was once panda, panny pandy little panda
Q was once sweet queen, queeny neeny sweet queen
R was once a rabbit, rabbity battity little rabbit
S was once a snake naky naky sneaky snake
T was once a turtle, tuttly tattly little turtle
U was once an umbrella, brilla lilla cute umberla
V was once ice cream, vanilla nilla neely ice cream
W was once a wolf, wolfy woofy little wolf
Y was once a yarn, yarny yorny soft yarn
Z was once a zebra, zeeby zabby zooby zebra
poem by Sherif Monem
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Blank Paper
the blank paper
is like a virgin
woman,
it is not blank because
it wants to
there is this inner desire
to be scribbled
be it love or lust
or whatever
it is just its nature
to be written
anything that fills it up
with words
for its perfection
or even for its destruction
and soon
it will have its fate
a love letter kept for years
or a scratch paper
crumpled in the
bin
burned by another man's
lighter or
torn by a woman's
anger.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Old Man Beside A Huge Tree
i have seen the picture of an old man
beside a huge oak tree
the picture is old
black and white and the kind of one that is strong
for it will last another lifetime
i have not seen the old man
neither the huge oak tree for real
i have the picture of the old man and the old oak tree
and the younger man sleeping
his smooth skin caressed by the fluffing grass
there is a story there and it is all about
gods and dogs
a film about a director who lost his fame
and fortune
about a young gardener who captures a heart
and made it bleed
at the end the old man met a happy death
the old oak tree was gone
but i have not really seen what is real
i have seen only the picture of what i thought could have been real
black and white
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lines Extracted From A Dream
'I think of it like a book,
I dont care for your self-authored words
of pity and sorrow, though yes they are just.
It isn't the narrative in you that interests me...
It is those blank pages in you that hold my court,
All books have them; those blank pages at the end,
Unfilled and undetermined, where you havent yet scribbled.
They are yet to be subject to anything,
And even if they are not destined for a happily ever after,
That does not mean i can't hope to find solace and closure in them.
What is to stop us writing our own fable in spite of what is already written?
What already is, is,
But what will be is ours to fathom through the velvet folds Of fate.
Surely.'
poem by Graham Stone
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Heads Were Dancing
You talked me into the game of chance.
It was 39, before the music started,
When you walked up to me and you said,
Hey, heads we dance.
Well, I didnt know who you were
Until I saw the morning paper:
There was a picture of you
A picture of you cross the front page.
It looked just like you, just like you in every way.
But it couldnt be true.
It couldnt be true.
You stepped out of a stranger.
They say that the devil is a charming man.
And just like you I bet he can dance.
And hes coming up behind in his long
Tailed black coat dance,
All tails in the air.
But the penny landed with its head dancing.
A picture of you, a picture of you in uniform,
Standing with your head held high,
Hot down to the floor.
But it couldnt be you.
It couldnt be you.
Its a picture of hitler.
He go do-do-do-do-do
He go do-do-do-do-do
He go do-do-do-do-do--
Do you want to dance?
Well, I couldnt see what was to be,
So I just stood there laughing.
A picture of you, a picture of you in uniform,
Standing with your head held high,
Hot down to the floor.
But it couldnt be you.
It couldnt be you.
Its a picture of hitler.
He go mmh-mmh-mmh-mmh-mmh
He go mmh-mmh-mmh-mmh-mmh
He go mmh-mmh-mmh-mmh-mmh--
Heads were dancing.
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gods Coloring Book
Today as I was walking
In the fields just down the way
I sat down on a fallen log
To pass the time away
And as I looked around me
The more that I did look
The more I realize that I am viewing
Gods coloring book
I saw a golden ray of sunlight
A silver drop of dew
A soft, white floating cloud
Sailing cross the sky a blue
A yellow dandelion
Pretty evergreen
And some red and orange flowers
Growing wild along the stream
And the more I look around me
And the more that I do look
The more I realize that I am viewing
Gods coloring book
The greyness in an old mans hair
The pink in babys cheeks
The blackness in a stormy sky
The brown in fallen leaves
And the multicolored rainbow
Stretched out across the sky
And the purple haze at sunset
Just before the night
And the more I look around me
And the more that I do look
The more I realize that I am viewing
Gods coloring book
Then I turn my face toward the sky
And say a silent prayer
Though God doesnt speak to me
I see him everywhere
He is all around me
Hes everywhere I look
And each new day is but a new page
In gods coloring book
Tag:
Each new day is but a new page
In gods coloring book
Hmmmmmm
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Take A Picture
Just a picture, could mean a couple words,
But the one I hold dearly close to my heart,
Means more to me than anything else,
This photograph, you I love in black and white.
There are so many things I could say,
Though one word stands out amongst the rest,
It starts with love and ends with you,
The one I want to share with every single moment.
To be with you, at your side, and experience the joys,
Or you in my arms, holding you close to me, as you cry,
We're a team together, we work things out,
So we can both remember these dreams.
I've held your picture as I dream of us,
One day, we'll be holding our picture,
Wedding bells or birthday wishes,
Whichever comes first, I'll always be there.
Be there, when we say our wedding vows,
Or holding your hand as we welcome our new child,
Cheering you on when you go to your new job,
Seeing you smile as life passes us by.
I don't know what else to write or say,
As I look at the picture in my hands,
Putting my pen down and wishing you goodnight,
This photo of you, in black and white.
A Picture Of Me
i can easily draw
myself
if i have a pencil and a paper
i could have easily given you a picture of me,
i have the eyes of a Chinese immigrant
my eyelids thicker than the bush that
you always trim along the fence
my lips are thin like the petals
of a rose
some men mistake them
for that of a woman's
but that will be so much of a misleading
fact like the direction of the road
that they changed days ago
some visitors have gone astray.
i am still in the middle of this journey
so my cheeks are smooth with only a few
scratches like the one that you see
when the cat scratches the wall
of the kitchen when it gets hungry
and shouts and yet you do not really mind at all.
my face is black and white
nothing gray
there is no color like a landscape of
fields and pathways.
you have seen me once but you never recognize
me because you relied more on the picture i had
on the poems that you read.
i like to see myself
less the distortions of the modern abstract art.
But i am more of the Gothic
Grecian-roman eclectic type.
You see you want to put me as a portrait in the canvass
like what everyone wants.
Look, look carefully, finally this is the portrait of me.
A river.You dip your finger in my eyes.
It is cold and it is passing like the ordinary wind
one boring day.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Blank Page Blues
I know we have all done it,
sat in front of a pristine white sheet of paper
and got ready to write something down,
and then we are confronted
with the blank page blues.
The words of inspiration
then scurry and hide away.
You are left with pen in hand,
scratching your head
wondering what to say.
There is no cure for this syndrome;
writers get it all the time.
Some call it a writer’s block,
when nothing comes into your head.
You sit in front of a blank page.
You know what you want to write,
then someone disturbs you
and the words disappear out of sight.
How many times have we had that?
We sit down to write our masterpiece
and the telephone rings,
or someone shouts your dinner is getting cold.
You feel like screaming,
but you take it on the chin.
You lay down your pen,
answer the phone or have your dinner,
and when you come back,
the blank page confronts you.
Still you cannot write anything on it.
You stare at it for hours,
until finally you get tired
and journey off to bed.
Hoping and hoping tomorrow
a little peace, it will bring
and your words on that blank page
will really begin to sing.
10 May 2008
poem by David Harris
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Leave My Kitten Alone
You better leave my kitten all alone
You better leave my kitten all alone
Well I tell you big bad bulldog
Well, you better leave her alone
Dont you know
My kitten isnt dead
Dont you know
My kitten isnt dead
So get your hands off of her
Cause Im her lovin man
Well mister dog
Im gonna hit you
On the top of your head
That girls gonna miss you
And youre gonna wish that you were dead
You better leave my kitten all alone
I love my little kitten
Well, like you hounddogs love your bone
Well mister dog
Im gonna hit you
On the top of your head
That girls gonna miss you
And youre gonna wish that you were dead
You better leave my kitten all alone
I tell you big bad bulldog
Well, you better leave her
I tell you big bad bulldog
Well, you better leave her
I tell you big bad bulldog
Well, you better leave her alone
You better leave
You better leave
You better leave
My kitten all alone
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Book Of Black Holes
You be on yourside
I'll be on my side
In between there is a book
the book of Black Holes
You sling your arrows
I'll dodge the harrows
And then I'll record it
In the book of Black Holes
There be many pages
that goes through many stages
In the end you may find it
In the book of Black Holes
If it's a five or ten
Even a zero I win
And I have recorded it
In the book of Black Holes
Your comments cryptic
Your words haze, eliptic
And like I said goes down
In the book of Black Holes
Your choice to be insipid
Your dreams are timid
Compared to what's collected
In my book of Black Holes
poem by Midnights Voice
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The Blues In Black And White
the writing is on the wall, baby
We're different as day and night
But I guess that I refused to face it
The blues in black and white
When I got home I knew, baby
Something was wrong tonight
When I found the note you wrote ,it gave
The blues in black and white
CHORUS
Color my world without you in it
And the future dont look too bright
Darlin' its not a pretty picture
The blues in black and white
Since you've been gone I'm going crazy
I've got to get on with my life
Maybe I'll write a book and call it
The blues in black and white
repeat chorus
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ducks of Equality
Dark brown-black ducks
splish-splash and
pitter-patter on
gently rocking waves
of glee
When a light gray-white duck
tip-taps and
tip-toes
shyly shivering
'May I join? ' quacks he.
The dark brown-black ducks
easily accept
the light gray-white duck
as one of their own
and joyfully they swim and play
In chilly water
'til they're freezing to the bone
And I wonder:
Why can't America be
more like the
dark brown-black ducks
and the
light gray-white duck
floating on the waves
of acceptance and equality?
poem by Charlotte Riddle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mediocrity or purpose divine.
A poem does not look much,
Just scribbled on any scrap
Of available paper or tissue.
Put it into print,
Give it a title.
All can be revealed
in an instant.
Mediocrity or purpose divine.
A poem does not always
Seem relevant.
Just scribbled with
Errors and adjustments.
Crossed out lines and words.
Does not do it justice.
Put it into print.
Give it a name or two.
All will unfold,
In an instant.
How pompous it all seems,
This little old poem divine
That started off as solely mine.
In a terrible dream.
I escaped to find reality.
.
poem by Peter Vealey
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Hunter
Laid back,
But ready to attack.
He's fat,
But cute in a hat.
Hunter the kitten,
As soft as a mitten.
Fun and lazy,
Fluffy and crazy.
Kitten at heart,
Always fart.
I love my kitten,
He's as cute as a button.
He's lazy and sweet,
But he loves to eat.
Laying next to me,
Making me happy.
Licking my tears away,
And making my day.
He likes to purr,
But he has too much fur.
My Hunter kitten,
As cute as ever,
You're fat and lazy,
But you're also crzy.
I love you,
ANd I hope you knew,
I'll love you,
Forever.
poem by Dragon Crenshaw
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Upon the Wall
The first picture is an old black and white of a young couple just started out their life. If you look close you can see all the hope in their eyes.
Next to that hangs a color picture of the same couple a few years older and a baby has been added to the picture, what joy upon their faces.
Now, the next picture is about seven years after that the couples hair has turned slightly grey and the child has grown, but their look of joy has turned to worry I wonder what problem has arose.
Now the next one is the once young child standing proudly in an arm forces' uniform ready to serve his nation.
Then there's the next picture it is a coffin with a flag draped upon it, and the old couple now standing and crying beside it.
I can only imagine that their child now lies in that coffin.
The final picture is similar to first except instead of black and white this has color, and instead of hope the old couple eyes are filled with despair from the harshness of life, and all they have left is the pictures upon the wall.
Avenue of My Body.
you pick up your brush
since gave up his words
and draws a line
and says that I am
I'm a bit more than that
2 dashes already enough
I take your hands
and gently paint some words
you no longer understands
then I paint my picture
I'm a bit more than that
2 dashes not enough
then, by drawing on me
which carbon paper
to see if you remember
Who I Am
I'm a bit more than that
a silhouette is not enough
A ghost you say
want something more solid?
open your hands
black ink seeping through his fingers
I'm a bit more than that
invisible ink and so thin
Black and white
really try scribble my Body
So I am
The pale line again
poem by Mirna Morgan
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Blank Page
Blank page leave me be!
Blank page please stop taunting me,
reminding me of what I have failed to do.
Oh how I long to fill you,
to take up your very last line
with creative, riveting lyrics of mine.
Blank page stop harassing me!
I wish to show you my thoughts,
desires, emotions and all.
How difficult it is to answer your call.
Blank page how sweetly you whisper
tempting my pen to caress your paper.
I immaturely expect the verses to flow
then I realize that my thoughts are much too slow.
Blank page so often you defeat me
teasing and challenging until hours later
all that is left is the tiny dot
where my pen merely touched your paper.
poem by Shaqueena Celestin
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