Almost Rich (Naani Form)
And I shall write with passion
Mocking age, forget the cost
So rich am I in poetic options
...Almost.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Related quotes
Options
Options, options, options,
ever too many choices.
Purple, Black, Blue or Green,
so many whispering voices;
Clint Eastwood, Kirk Douglas, Charly Sheen.
Options, options, options,
your thoughts bubbling away.
No time to choose but Delay:
'Sticks and stones can't break my bones,
but Options they can kill you still!
poem by Madrason writer
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What They Write About
what they write about
are so poetic, and sometimes i feel
envious, and think all nights to also
write everything poetic like the way
they write about the moon, and stars,
and sun and clouds and hills and
valleys and blooming flowers
about summer,
but honestly speaking, i think every
poetic imagery has only become too
routinary, all metaphors conceived of,
are nothing but simply variations adopted
from one poet to another like an
uncaught plagiarist on the loose,
but somehow, i also like it when i think
that writing is just a hobby, a diversion,
if not a deviation from what
we really want to become.
well, i may be a sour grape for
staying just to be myself,
an imaginary toad in the real
garden untended by its owner.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Presidential leadership needn't always cost money. Look for low- and no-cost options. They can be surprisingly effective.
quote by Donald Rumsfeld
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Almost Poetic
It's almost poetic
The way you speak
It's almost poetic
The way you think
The way you sleep and dream
It's almost poetic
The way I feel for you
It's almost poetic
The way we argue
It's almost poetic
When we say goodbye
Not knowing the next time
We'll see each other
You are the curved line
And I am the dot
That creates the question mark..
And it's almost poetic
If it were not so pathetic.
poem by Jeremy Rascon
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Write
Write, keep writing lot
Write, write before you forget
Write, make it as reminder
Write, write before words disappear
Write, for you to contemplate
Write, write before your mind changed
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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THE COST...by Talile Ali
V1
ALWAYS AVOIDED FAME
AFRAID TO PAY THE COST
LOSS OF FAMILY
FRIEND'S WHO ALL ARE LOST
THERE IS NO DENYING
THE NEED TO SERVE IS STRONG
THE COST OF SERVICE EXPENSIVE
THAT'S NOT TO SAY IT'S WRONG
CHORUS
BUT IT'S THE COST
IT'S THE COST
GOTTA PAY THE PIPER
OR ELSE YOU'LL BE TOSSED
IT'S THE COST
V2
LOVE IS PLAIN AND SIMPLE
HEART IS STRONG AND TRUE
EPIPHANIES ARE FLOWING
WANT TO SHARE WITH YOU
SO I WRITE AND PERFORM
AND YOU SEE MY NEED
TO DO THIS HERE SERVICE
FOR EVERYONE'S THAT'S PLEASED
JAM FOR 24 BARS
CHORUS
BUT IT'S THE COST
IT'S THE COST
GOTTA PAY THE PIPER
OR ELSE YOU'LL BE TOSSED
IT'S THE COST
FADE OUT
poem by Talile Ali
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0026 To live in poetry
So often, poets
with their poetic eyes,
ears, minds, hearts, souls,
record actions that
are already poetry or poetic
in themselves
or so it seems
which makes it easy
for poetic poets to write
poetic poetry
as when I watch you
poised so still, sitting there,
your face against the light,
painting meeting sculpture,
still as any animal,
still as any goddess
roaming the cosmos in your mind
seeking, ballpoint poised,
the answer to some hidden
crossword clue
living in poetry
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Forget The Cost
Multi-million dollar
Exploration into space
While in the name of progress
This planet's laid to waste
Nation takes on nation
And is stepping up the pace
And someone's got his finger
On the button.
(chorus)
Forget the cost
We've got to choose
We're running in a race
That we can only lose.
Rich is rich and poor is poor
And never the twain shall meet
East is east and west is west
And only one shall eat
The microchip has come of age
And man is obsolete
And someone's got his finger
On the button.
(chorus)
Forget the.......(etc)
song performed by by Ub40
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Mocking Bird On The Tree Fronting The House...
a mocking bird
sits on a branch of a tree
that fronts the house that
papa made
papa is gone.
a mocking bird left but one
sunny day
after the heavy rains for months
the mocking bird comes back
it is bringing silence
unlike all the other mocking birds
in town
the mocking bird is dead
a boy abandoned by his mother
stoned it
now the window if you walk a little
distant from the house
and sit on a bench across the road
looks like a Cheshire cat
giving Alice that fable smile.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Contagious.....
dear friend
i write this with bitterness
this poem,
this un-poem,
this anti-poem which is bitter
i do not know if you are bitter too,
because if you are
perhaps you
can easily understand how is it to be unpoetic
because you are bitter
because i have
the impression that to be poetic
it must be something
that makes us feel beautiful
inside out
and which also
spreads beauty
all around the world,
and people will be happy
and know that something
poetic is always the one
that creates order,
system,
nice feelings,
nothing of that bitter sort,
that depressing effect,
that prompts a suicide
somewhere along the straight line
of life,
i have nothing bad
for all my intentions,
i am a bitter man,
and i am writing about bitterness,
and you surely will
not like it,
because you are
a happy man,
in blissful state,
as you wish to convey it
in your pictures at
facebook,
and the rest of the write-ups
that you have posted
so far.
this poem is
like a volcano
that soon will erupt
i hope there will
be no casualties
it has to.
because it is needed.
because it is.
so,
i think,
it is time for you to
run away and avoid me,
and forget ab
out me,
as of this moment,
you should have already
stopped
reading.
i guess,
you are interested
in bitterness,
it is sweet to know that
...
are you
bitter too?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Plastic Passion
Plastic passion is a hard to handle
Plastic passion is a sold out scandal
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is the ladies lover
Plastic passion is the marble mother
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is a diamond delight
Plastic passion is the nadir of night
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is a hycoscine heart
Plastic passion is a transparent tart
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is a gold guarantee
The plastic passion is murdering me
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Our Final Option
we're on the same trips
mostly leisure
we keep on saying
what options do we still have?
we hop from one island to another
we have become missing most of the times
we opt for our privacy
and friends are asking what is happening
one day we walk hand on hand on the park
and it is raining so hard
we keep on asking, what options do we still have?
to run? we have been running away
we do not know what to find really
and we do not ask anymore
the options are all here
inside the house and well fenced.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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For a hard-headed woman
I AM worried about you
nothing poetic is attached to it
plain worry
like paper with some written words
still running
looking for a certain space
to die
I have given you options
like the openness of the bay as mouth of the sea
like trees running some twigs to grow more leaves
like fledgelings sitting upon a branch and all willing to fly
and negate the need for nests
You do not grab any
You like it that way, and I give up
Surrender to the fact
that It is you who still paves the path
towards your
own niche
Unlike you we do not worry about the color of the paint
and the flowers
We simply do it the way it is usually done
Put the cover
drop, and then when everything is slayed
We go back sweating to our own homes
and force ourselves to accept
and then forget...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sometimes You Wish Someone Will Know The Greatness Of A Poem
sometimes as you write a hundred or more poems
you wish someone with taste
the one without which nothing will be called 'poetic'
shall read you and understand the greatness of your
words and style,
someone with a long black hair
smooth skin and possessing that intellectual flare
reads one of your poems and says
' i like this and i shall keep this
did you really write this? '
and you are so flattered that you forget that all the while
on the 5,000th poem
you have been writing all about yourself
on some pain of rejection
that love interest that never responded
that one so beautiful and yet had never laid her eyes on you.
and then, you smile, after all on that poem
inside those images, you appear to be lovable
and she, is never one ordinary fan.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Moment Of Passion
A moment of Passion so easily shared,
With no fear or regret,
The momories flood through my mind,
A moment of Passion I'll never forget
A moment of Passion is like a drug,
It takes me so high,
Needing to get another fix,
A moment of Passion can never lie
A moment of Passion when we are alone,
You desire it too,
Unable to control it,
A moment of Passion shared with YOU
poem by Nathaniel Hayes
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A Moment Of Passion
A moment of passion so easily shared,
with no fear or regret.
The memories flood through my mind,
a moment of passion I'll never forget.
A moment of passion is like a drug,
it takes me so high.
Needing to get another fix,
a moment of passion can never lie
A moment of passion when we are alone,
you desire it too.
Unable to control it,
a moment of passion shared with you.
Given Freely Without Purchase Cost
there are those who write books
sell them to appreciative public
who receive them as blessings...
paid for is effort purchase appreciation
yet that given freely without purchase cost
is seldom appreciated as a rich blessing...
poem by Terence George Craddock
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We are quite rich enough to defend ourselves, whatever the cost. We must now learn that we are quite rich enough to educate ourselves as we need to be educated.
quote by Walter Lippmann
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where Is My Passion
Where is my passion
Far too much pain
Where is my passion
Must I love in vain?
Where is my passion
I need must know
Where is my passion
I want so much to grow
Where is my passion
Lost in your lips
Where is my passion
I feel for your kiss
Where is my passion
Lost in your eyes
Where is my passion
Release me to fly
Where is my passion
There in your hands
Where is my passion
Touch me…expand
Where is my passion
Please…be a man
poem by Fleurette Elaine Harris
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If I Ever Forget You
If i ever forget you,
the sun would forget
to shine nor the moon
at night.
If i ever forget you,
ants would forget to gather
food and the fish would
forget how to swim.
If i ever forget you,
the river would forget the
sea and the sunflower would
forget to gaze at the sun.
If i ever forget you,
babies would forget how
to crawl and cock would
forget how to crow.
If i ever forget you,
farmers would forget there
path and humans would forget
there name.
If i ever forget you,
the tree would forget to
bear fruit and demons would
forget to do evil.
If i ever forget you.
i will never forget you.
poem by Enebeli Ifyprada
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