Ramble little lamb
As mystery ferments within the womb of Our mother
We anticipate the rebirth of appreciation.
Meditate within your shell,
Build your heaven from the remnants of a hollow hell.
Ramble little lamb, forever onwards towards the horizon,
As clouds above form as child flown chariots, raining down
Strikes on inspiration. Forget regret.
The Muse she stirs my heart a blur,
As spiral constructs obstruct the glare
Of Apollo in his pride
poem by David Lacey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Come Together
As mystery ferments within the womb of Our Mother
We anticipate the rebirth of appreciation.
Meditate within your shell,
Build your heaven from the remnants of a hollow hell.
Ramble little lamb, forever onwards towards the horizon,
As clouds above form as child flown chariots, raining down
Strikes on inspiration. Forget regret.
The Muse she stirs my heart a blur,
As spiral constructs obstruct the glare
Of Apollo in his pride
High above, oh yellow yoke
The higher he’s a getting
The sooner will his race be run
The nearer he’ll be to setting.
Towers cooling bellow smoke into the purity of the skyline.
Tainting yellow, a sickly shade the skin of those fools
Who would dig a hole with the palms of their hands,
If only to find a spade.
The void beckons beyond the flick of a switch,
In absence of substance the soul feeds upon itself.
Catering for carelessness, placing consideration upon the shelf.
Sing Bard Sing
Oh what a Love it is you bring.
Satisfy my soul in grooving the
Story untold.
An ode to un-named Gods un-tamed.
Never to be seen by waking wise.
Roaming through the wilderness
Crimson fury in their eyes.
Recognition fuels their strength
They seek a guardian tribe.
They seek their recognition so they may
Dwell secure within a swelling pride.
Still they retain a power that surpasses
All but the Fates who rule as the hand unseen.
Waking eyes seek no surprises.
They expect the sun in the sky by day.
Seek the midnight source unseen.
Let it guide your way.
In the duration of our souls existence eternal it lay as an internal necessity
Within the process of harmonious balance that one day we each will meet
Its half to make them whole. Opportunities wasted may one day be placed
Again before your soul. As wine ready to be tasted. Don’t spit it out. Don’t waste in wanting. Seek not profit as your goal as a prophet, understand your dreams.
Destiny lay as a thread defined
Within the dreams that form within our minds.
Born of ether
Calm the child
Send him to the valley wild.
Within the green,
So he may dream
Of a picture he can paint.
Un-tainted by the perversion of perfection.
How are we to prepare if Fate is so willing
To tear the fabric routine without reservation.
How am I to set my path if the Fates are so
Willing to laugh down upon the face of my
Reluctance to dance a game of chance.
Through reflections we find no affection for the form of the soul
That lay before, the questing soul, a filling hole, seeks the doorway
Concealed to be revealed through pious sacrifice.
Say.
Say what you are wanting to say,
Play it your way.
For you know as well as any
That your way is the only way
To play the games they’ll want you to play.
Have it your way,
Say.
In an age of lawlessness
We find Justice laid out upon the floor,
Empty bottle in hand, howling for more.
Intoxicated and deranged,
She knows no longer the balance of the scales.
She knows no longer her failings derailed.
As she wades through the filth that swamps our streets,
As we grimace in paranoia in confrontation with the
People we meet, How it saddens my heart to see this town,
This world of ours tearing itself apart.
Slip inside the looking glass
Within a process of meditation
As a shaman lead the trance in frenzy
Whilst dancing to the beat of rhythmic intoxications.
Excess skin hands loose from the bones of her construct.
Ripples encircle her nipples as she moves,
As the fabric constraint maintains the firm of her bosom.
Fishnet stockings dissect the flesh revealed.
As eyes furious in their monitor
Collide upon her frontier.
Imagination fuels desire as burning in and out of fashion
The hidden torch pf passion lay ready to feel the crashing of the tides.
Only the blind may face Apollo without fear of obscure visions.
Only the man who wishes to keep in tact the illusion of sanity
Would wish to wipe away the tears. Be not scared to embrace the
Vision that greets you as you glance to grasp for just one moment
The form of Apollo’s glory.
poem by David Lacey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Mother
How can a mother forget her child,
the child who is conceived nine months in the womb
the child that is cradled at daytime,
night time until dawn?
How can a mother forget her child?
How can a mother forget her child
the child who after the flow of months
has learned to stand and run?
How can a mother forget her child,
the child whose mouth imitates her mother`s tongue,
the child who after a year or two can say,
'Mama, I love you'?
How can a mother forget her child,
the child who is so dear in her own heart and mind,
the child that reveals the mystery of creation,
the beauty of growth and human interaction.
the infinity of our own universe
within its finite linear time?
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
It's Raining Red
It's raining, it's raining, it's raining red
I blasted a hole
Right through my head
It's raining, it's raining, it's raining red
I'm so relieved
I'm finally dead
It's raining, it's raining, it's raining red
I was killed by the lies
I was always fed
It's raining, it's raining, it's raining red
It's over I'm gone
So forget what I said
poem by Cassandra Hooper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Child in the Womb…
The child in the womb longs
To leave the darkness ’round,
And see the light of the world,
Created by God.
The child in the womb yearns
To breathe the lovely air
Of independent life,
Made by God.
The child in the womb wants
To move about with ease,
On planet earth’s terrain,
Meant for it.
The child in the womb waits
To show its cry of life,
And feel its mother’s warmth,
And parents’ love.
The child in the womb loves
To show its beauteous form,
That love of God gave it,
Free of cost!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 2-15-2008
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Hollow Man
it is the hollow man
who abandons
God.
God waits.
The hollow man floats away.
God goes near him.
The hollow man drifts farther away
from His Bounty.
God understands.
The hollow man does not listen.
Ears are perforated
by his ego and
pride.
Then, the end has come.
The hollow man goes
to hell.
Combustible
the fires of Hell
so easily consumed him.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Sea to the Shell
The sea, my mother, is singing to me,
She is singing the old refrain,
Of passion, of love, and of mystery,
And her world-old song of pain;
Of the mirk midnight and the dazzling day,
That trail their robes o'er the wet sea-way.
The sea, my mother, is singing to me
With the white foam caught in her hair,
With the seaweed swinging its long arms free,
To grapple the blown sea air:
The sea, my mother, with billowy swell,
Is telling her tale to the wave-washed shell.
The sea, my mother, is singing to me,
With the starry gleam in her wave,
A dirge of the dead, of the sad, sad sea,
A requiem song of the brave;
Tenderly, sadly, the surges tell
Their tale of death to the wave-washed shell.
The sea, my mother, confides to me,
As she turns to the soft, round moon,
The secrets that lie where the spirits be,
That hide from the garish noon:
The sea, my mother, who loves me well,
Is telling their woe to the wave-washed shell.
O mother o' mine, with the foam-flecked hair,
O mother, I love and know
The heart that is sad and the soul that is bare
To your daughter of ebb and flow;
And I hold your whispers of Heaven and Hell
In the loving heart of a wave-washed shell.
poem by David MacDonald Ross
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Child Is Born
a child, a child, a child is born
to a mother who lies near death;
no food, no home, no place to go,
smell the stink of fear on her breath.
you build and destroy, and build again,
pound your chests with arrogant pride.
litigate and over populate,
sell your vision while children die.
if there's a God He doesnt live
in your temples and your shrines.
but in the cry of the hungry child,
and the ones you've left behind.
a child, a child, a child is born....
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Bulletin
FoOlisH sCiEnCe
Go To SlEep
FoReVeR
tHe UbIqUiToUs NiGhT
iS FuLl Of ScReAmS
iT iS rAiNiNg oN fLoWeRs.
BuLlEtIn:
ThE KeYs To HeAvEn HaVe BeEn LoSt On EaRtH.
iF tHe MoOn Is PoWeR tHe RaVeN (sNoW) iS
DaRkNeSs.
RoAr Of ThE lIoN aNd ThE gEnTlE lAmB
wHo WiLl WiN
sAiD a ChIlD oF nOwHeRe
ThE lIlAcS iN hEr HaIr.
poem by M.L. Squier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Black Book of Santiago
Spiralling towards oblivion
Am I to abandon any hope of recovery?
Salvation?
I feel the blanket shifting
Acid clouds above my head.
All about my form lay broken bodies mangled
Tarnished flesh horrors await as the waxworks melt
Slow, soft, sombre, felt fabric drips come melting sweet
A torrent of fear upon the street victims helpless below.
Cooling towers upon the horizon act as cloud factories.
What hope do we have of recovery?
Electric snakes wind entwining themselves
Around the roots of the venerable Oak.
What horror of industry is this that pollutes our horizon so?
Children seek their mother through discomfort.
Fathers are no longer to be honoured.
Shallow streets fuel the addicts need for release.
I spiral onwards - ever inwards for the horrors
That await beyond my flesh are more than I can bare.
I close my eyes. I make as though I was never there.
Confusion swells within this heart of mine
For every time I drift within my thought
I find myself caught and sinking
Blind ever thinking without accepting the
Truth of my knowing the river must flow forever more.
I find myself dwelling too often with ghost companions
From a former life. Confusion swells abandoned, isolated
From dreamstates. Are we alone to guide our hands in blessing?
Who are we to un-shroud the mystery.
Who are we to proclaim transcendental truths aloud?
Who are we to pluck fruit so easily from the branches of the world tree?
We are they who have set emotion free.
No more than a flower blooming are we that swoon beneath the moon.
Open your heart to the warmth of the sun.
Allow Apollo's kiss upon your cheeks.
Seek. Seek forever more beyond the river of your flowing.
Take in the clouds as colors change - re arranging
Upon the skylines. Pastel shades are fading.
Night is awoken. Awaiting in the shadows still
Knowing soon is her time to rule upon the hill.
Ignore the crowds- the masses thronging outside the window
For all they hope for is a view of the morning show.
Let them know the circle full. Let them know the tears of Joy.
Spirits rise in procession
Paying homage to the soul of Albion's sage
A new age is born from Romance.
We are as ever attempting
Aspiration towards redemption whole
They sing - as sweet melodies linger upon the breeze.
Old friends no longer recognize the Love they once held dear
Good friends no loner recognize attachments long forgotten.
The Fate's hath begotten a tapestry blue.
Two lone warriors stride headstrong into the nightmare
Shadows unfolded themselves to reveal all they once concealed
Paranoia calls - beckoning you to close the window.
Close it to the world outside. Shut yourself blind.
Who knows what you may find
Seeking justice beyond the eggshell cracked
Feed. Breed upon the invisible leash.
Know that no release is necessary
For the form you know as your own
Is set upon the path of secret shadows revealed.
poem by David Lacey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Her love is my inspiration
Her love is my inspiration
Love is the inspiration for my heart to sing a tune,
love is the inspiration for my ear to hear,
love is the inspiration for my soul to warm,
love is the inspiration for my mouth to smile,
love is the inspiration for my eyes to glisten.
Love is the inspiration to draw my soul near another
love is the inspiration for my mouth to utter sweet words,
love is the inspiration for my eyes to gaze upon her,
love is the inspiration for my heart to speak out.
Love is the inspiration for need, love is the inspiration for my mouth to touch hers,
love is the inspiration for my eyes to close,
love is the inspiration for my heart to race,
love is the inspiration for my tears to burn.
Love is the inspiration for longing,
love is the inspiration for my eyes to see only her,
love is the inspiration for my heart to cry out,
love is the inspiration for my ear to hear her whispers,
love is the inspiration for my soul to join hers forever.
Love is the inspiration for forever,
love is the inspiration for my heart to be whole,
love is the inspiration for my ear to always hear those words,
love is the inspiration for my soul to have hers,
love is the inpiration for my mouth to speak the truth.
Love is the inspiration for my soul to seek life
love is the inspirationfor my ear to hear her words,
love is the inspiration for my soul to reach for her,
love is the inspiration for my mouth to speak her truths,
love is the inspiration for my eyes to always look upon her first,
For she is the inspiration for my Love.
Nathaniel Cole Buddington
poem by Nathan Buddington
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
‘Happy Birthday’, Mother Mary!
8th September – your birthday,
O Queen of heaven, all say;
The grace that filled your heart, aye,
Gave us and world, a mighty day.
O Maria Bambina!
Daughter of Joachim and Anne;
You acceded to God’s request
Through angel Gabriel.
You grew up in great piety;
God chose you from amongst women –
A virgin to mother a child,
A baby boy, Immanuel!
By pow’r of Spirit Holy,
You bore the sacred baby,
In your womb of sanctity,
O Mother Virgin Mary.
Hail Mary, Mother of Jesus;
Heavenly mother of mankind;
Look down with mercy upon us,
Ask God to cleanse our sin-stained souls!
O New Eve of the world of men!
The Word became flesh in your womb,
And born was the Lord, ‘King of Kings’:
You trounced Satan forever then.
Conceived without Original Sin,
Becoming Mother of God;
You set aside all Natural laws,
And gave birth to the Lord.
You brought Salvation to mankind
Through Jesus Christ your son,
Who came as Savior, Messiah,
And suffered a death on cross!
O Lady of great chastity!
You obeyed Almighty’s one wish;
Exalted more than angels, saints,
Heaven is now your true abode.
O perfect vessel made by God!
Afilled by grace up to the brim;
The most blessed among women,
Our Intercessor, Pure of heart.
O Mary most immaculate,
Assumed into heaven by God;
Do pray for us sinners on earth
And protect souls from fire of hell.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 09-08-08
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Love These Laws
I love the laws that God sends down on us, raining,
Opening the doors of heaven, of absoluteness, raining.
My heart speaks to the delight of the creation,
Offered by us is this religion of accurateness, raining.
Let the ages pass and make us supreme, from all the water
Descending on the skulls and bones of adorableness, raining.
Let the brain be a monster to be rewarded for the drops of deeds
Falling into the ocean of our lives, always in activeness, raining.
Pass your test if this soul in the heart matters most,
Rain has arrived for the heart to be famous, raining.
Little tests are good deeds when passed for success
To reign in our history, of this history is fatherliness, raining.
My mad health kept a watchful eye on the laws of men and stones,
In Hell the men and stones are buried with hazardousness, raining.
My loving and dying is like death for the message to be profound,
But may we shrink from the fires where we would be helpless, raining.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Day And Night Become Me
Dancing to appease the gods of my own creation
I find myself lost within the appreciation of the moment
What could I have to resent? To regret?
When here and now and rising still I am one with the
Melody cast adrift from strumming strings in harmony?
The butterfly flaps its wings?
I cast shadows upon lighter plains with the rhythm electric and fueled,
Fueled alike the new sap rising to Apollo's kiss.
Towards to horizon wavering.
We are as princes amongst men, Titans upon the shoulders of the world
Bearing the weight of expectation only from ourselves.
The night is a corridor winding
The promise of dawn an un sung song
I am born within the day
The day is an open field
The promise of twilight an unknown bliss
I am born within the night
The day and night become me
And I am one within them
Speak wind of what you know I ask of thee?
Do you remember the child’s voice beckoning you to turn away the clouds of Winters retinue?
poem by David Lacey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Take Mother-love To All
the Mother takes
the child
to the creatures
and to the beauty of the world
and she bids the child
see and listen to each
the moon says to the child:
be radiant, shine like me
with love
the flower says:
laugh, laugh joyously
like me
the bee says to the child:
be light, be light and easy
as bees in a garden
the grass says,
the grass sings to the child:
be easy, be supple
as me and my mates on the yards
and in the fields
the ocean waves to the child,
the ocean hums:
include all, embrace all,
contain all
as I do within me
the sky says,
the clouds dance to the child:
be wide, be limitless
as the wide, wide blue sky
on which we clouds sail
and the Mother says
to the child who listens,
whose heart is not closed:
love all creatures
love all beings;
take the mother-love
to every existence,
with no exception
to every form of life
poem by Raj Arumugam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Not All Angels Cry For You
Angels tears raining over the earth
For love's pain and love's feeling
Not all angels cry for you though, not all angels love you
No angel can lift you to heaven or damn you to hell
When you feel the rain, a divine connection
Feeling a part of heaven inside your heart, a feeling you know
A feeling like one you've felt before because of another heart
And one you'll never forget, no matter how much you try
So heaven's too high for us
And hell's too sad
Whether they've ever existed doesn't matter, they exist to everyone
And because they do, angels don't cry for you
poem by Paul Macharmley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Recompense: (For Lord Kilhacken)
That which I saved I lost
And that I lost I found,
And you are mine, oh tender little ghost,
Whose grave is holy ground.
That which I kept is flown,
So fast the children grow,
The only child I keep to be my own
I lost long years ago.
The little ones that stayed
Slip from me while I cry:
Oh, not so fast, so fast, you golden-head.
Swift as the wind they fly.
Not two days are the same.
To-morrow will not see
To-day's young children, crested like a flame,
Gathered about my knee.
One day a day will dawn
Will see me dispossessed --
An empty nest whence singing-birds have flown.
Who shall refill the nest?
The years run out like sand
To strip me of my pride;
Then in my hand will steal a clinging hand.
I keep the child who died.
God gives and does not lend
This one lamb of the fold;
And he will need his mother to the end
And never will grow old.
poem by Katharine Tynan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Thunderball
He always runs while others walk
He acts while other men just talk.
He looks at this world, and wants it all,
So he strikes, like thunderball.
He knows the meaning of success.
His needs are more, so he gives less.
They call him the winner who takes all.
And he strikes, like thunderball.
Any woman he wants, hell get.
He will break any heart without regret.
His days of asking are all gone.
His fight goes on and on and on.
But he thinks that the fight is worth it all.
So he strikes like thunderball
song performed by by Tom Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Gonna Raise Hell
Words and music by rick nielsen
Gonna raise hell, gonna raise hell.
Gonna raise hell, gonna raise hell.
Ambition? ha!
If all Ive heard is true,
Theres nothin much I can do
To change the world, its irreversible.
But in what it lacks,
Its got a taste that smacks of somethin irresistable.
Gonna raise hell, gonna raise hell, gonna raise hell.
Gonna raise hell, gonna raise hell, gonna raise hell.
Submission? yes!
Now I wont name names, and a secrets a secret,
But a hints a hint or a clue.
You really wanna know, you really wanna go,
Theres only two things you got to do.
Gonna raise hell, gonna raise hell, gonna raise hell.
Gonna raise hell, gonna raise hell, gonna raise hell.
Mother, mother.
Mother, mother.
Mother, mother.
My mission? ah, yes!
Everybody hear? everybody here,
Its a fate I all agree.
Sometimes you win, I never lose,
To me its no mystery.
Gonna raise hell, gonna raise hell, gonna raise hell.
Gonna raise hell, gonna raise hell, gonna raise hell.
(repeat to coda)
song performed by by Cheap Trick
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Lessons from the Sea
I was out one day to learn lessons from the sea.
The sea so deep and wide,
It is used to take you from place to place
It appears that nothing lies inside
My eyes can see what appears to be its end
The margin of the horizon,
But the closer I get, the end disappears
A mystery to everyone
The sea communicates with me, now and then
In a language of its own
I may never understand every word it speaks
Just like the seagulls, above it flown
The lessons learnt at sea, must be taught by the sea
For a substitute, there is One other
If there were no sea, where would the lessons be?
Only through that of my mother
A mother’s love, is like the wide open sea
That never stops to flow,
It matters not, the child you’ve been
Her love never ceases to glow
poem by Troy Brown
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Beauty of a Mother
The beauty of a woman starts
When her womb begins to grow
The child that she'll give birth
Soon will call her, “my mother”
The beauty of a mother reigns
When her arms cradle her child
And her charm shines within
Her heart full of love and care
The beauty of mother un-fades
When her hands guide her child
In all places walking side by side
To protect her child from danger
The beauty of a mother is her brain
To teach her child to read and write
To let the child know the difference
Of what is wrong and what is right
The beauty of a mother is her act
To treat her child without compare
To list none of whatsoever is best
For her child is the gem of her life
Then the beauty of mother reflects
From the eyes of her child in return
To respect, love, and care for her
When age and time set them apart
poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!