Hugs
A hug
E’en if given
Only in jest
Tis still yet
a hug
No more no less
While Intended
Perhaps only
To be received in jest
I shall instead
Choose to Treat it
As a sweet caress
For no matter
How tis intended
The hug to be
How tis comprehended
Is totally
Up to me
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Not Let Time Be Wasted
I intended to,
But I didn't...
Finish what I started yesterday.
I intended to,
But I didn't...
Promise myself I would stop procrastinating.
And...
I was almost there,
Until an excuse got in my way.
I intended to,
But I didn't...
Take that walk,
So to others I could say...
What it is 'they' should do,
To not let time be wasted...
With a getting nothing done,
If something to do was intended.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Fundamental of Liar Chapter LVIII: Intention
Can I ugly cry like that when it intended to be lie
Can I easily talk like that when it intended to be lie
Can I bark mad like that when it intended to be lie
Or will I set my poker face to smooth my intention to lie?
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Before They Choose
People know those mixed signals sent.
And what is meant intended.
People want first to tease before they choose.
People know those mixed signals sent.
And what is meant intended.
People want first to tease before they choose,
To refuse.
Giving one the eye to quickly hide!
People know those mixed signals sent.
And what is meant intended.
Scouting for a prey,
To play.
And...
People want first to tease before they choose.
People know those mixed signals sent.
And what is meant intended.
People want first to tease before they choose,
To refuse.
And...
Do.
People know those mixed signals sent.
And what is meant intended.
People want first to tease before they choose.
People know those mixed signals sent.
And what is meant intended.
People want first to tease before they choose,
To refuse.
And...
Do.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Vagabond
Dunno a heap about the what an' why,
Can't say's I ever knowed.
Heaven to me's a fair blue stretch of sky,
Earth's jest a dusty road.
Dunno the names o' things, nor what they are,
Can't say's I ever will.
Dunno about God - he's jest the noddin' star
Atop the windy hill.
Dunno about Life - it's jest a tramp alone,
From wakin'-time to doss.
Dunno about Death - it's jest a quiet stone
All over-grey wi' moss.
An' why I live, an' why the old world spins,
Are things I never knowed.
My mark's the gypsy fires, the lonely inns,
An' jest the dusty road.
poem by John Masefield (1902)
Submitted by anonym
Vote! | Copy!
Urceus Exit
Triolet
I INTENDED an Ode,
And it turn'd to a Sonnet
It began a la mode,
I intended an Ode;
But Rose cross'd the road
In her latest new bonnet;
I intended an Ode;
And it turn'd to a Sonnet.
poem by Henry Austin Dobson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Send All Of It Back
Send all of it back.
All of that felt negativity descending.
Stop its intended attempts,
To invade my peace and privacy.
Take it away.
Back to where it originates.
To leave me free,
Of wickedness sent.
I will not allow it to compete,
With my quiet sentiments released.
Received and understood.
To nourish as I should.
Send all of it back.
All of that felt negativity descending.
I've comprehended mistakes,
And misunderstandings done.
No longer am I in punishment,
For mending those wrongs I've overcomed.
Forgiveness was given.
Apologies received.
Purpose, reason or causes of effects...
I am not going to research with consistent regret.
To persist to saddle dead horses to beat...
Are issues others may wish to revive.
But myself I will not weep in sobs...
To keep revolving,
Pain I've resolved.
Send all of it back.
All of that felt negativity descending.
Stop its intended attempts,
To invade my peace and privacy.
What happened in times passed...
My heart refuses to get involved!
Take it away.
Back to where it originates.
To leave me free,
Of wickedness sent.
I will not allow it to compete,
With my quiet sentiments released.
Received and understood.
To nourish as I should.
And will.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What A Friend
Lady of the G..spot...
You are just a dot...
I've always wish that you...
Sh- or get off the pot...
In you I do not plot...
To me you are...
A save-a-lot...
You are truly my friend...
And that I want to never...
End...
But every now and then...
I ask if I came come in...
But I keep in mind that we..are...
Truly freinds...Platonic at best...
So my asking...is always in jest...
And maybe that is best...jset...
And anything other...I would be a pest...
That would be a mess...
But you rest...
We both have pass..the test...
I would love to fail...in jest...
We shall remain platonic...
Now that takes balls...
But that is my call...
We are friends after all...
And I am the freind in need...in deed...
Keep one eye open...
And the other eye on...
Jest...
whisperkwane
swtlamb@y ahoo.com
poem by whisperkwane Lamb
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Prayer
You talk o' prayer an' such -
Well, I jest don't know how;
I guess I got as much
Religion as a cow.
I fight an' drink an' swear;
Red hell I often raise,
But never said a prayer
In all my days.
I'm honest, right enough;
Don't take no stock in crimes;
I'm jest a dockside tough,
An' yet . . . an' yet sometimes,
If I should happen by
A church-door open wide
The chances are that I
Will sneak inside.
It's kin o' peaceful there,
Jest sittin' in a pew;
There's sompin' in the air
That rests me through an' through;
It does me heaps o' good
To see them candles glow,
So soothin' to the mood . . .
Why? - I don't know.
Unless that sittin' still
Can be a kind o' prayer;
My heart jest seems to fill
Wi' peace . . . Oh, God don't care
For guys the likes o' me;
I just ain't in His line:
But when the Cross I see,
I make the sign.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
God Almighty never intended that the devil should triumph over the Church. He never intended that the saloons should walk rough-shod over Christianity.
quote by Billy Sunday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
As this world was not intended to be a state of any great satisfaction or high enjoyment, so neither was it intended to be a mere scene of unhappiness and sorrow.
quote by Joseph Butler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I intended to be.
quote by Douglas Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Brave Coward
Elisabeth imagines I've
A yellow streak
She deems I have no dash and drive,
Jest dogoned weak.
'A man should be a man,' says Liz
'Trade blow for blow.'
Poor kid! What my position is
She jest don't know.
She jest don't know my old man killed,
Yea, slew and slew.
As steamy blood he sweetly spilled,
So could I too.
And though no wrath of heart I show
When I see red,
I fear no S. O. B. but oh
Myself I dread.
Though fellers reckon me a dope
And trigger-shy,
'Tain't nice to dangle on a rope,
And like Pa die.
So as I belly to the bar
Meek is my breath . . .
No guts! --Don't needle me too far,
Elizabeth!
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Many Incidents Intended
Many incidents intended,
Has evidence as incentive.
But no one pays attention...
Or listens to what's being said,
To what is being mentioned.
These speeding times leave minds behind.
Many incidents intended,
Has evidence as incentive.
But no one pays attention...
Or listens to what's being said,
To what is being mentioned.
These speeding times leave minds behind.
These speeding times leave minds behind.
Many incidents intended.
But no one pays attention...
Or listens to what's being said,
To what is being mentioned.
Many incidents intended.
Many incidents intended.
But no one pays attention...
Or listens to what's being said,
To what is being mentioned.
Many incidents intended.
Many incidents intended.
Many incidents intended.
These speeding times leave minds behind.
Many incidents intended.
Many incidents intended.
Many incidents intended.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
He that would jest must take a jest, or else to let it alone were best.
He that would jest must take a jest, else to let it along were best.
Grand-Pa's Whim
While for me gapes the greedy grave
It don't make sense
That I should have a crazy crave
To paint our fence.
Yet that is what I aim to do,
Though dim my sight:
Jest paint them aged pickets blue,
Or green or white.
Jest squat serenely in the sun
Wi' brush an' paint,
An' gay them pickets one by one,
--A chore! It ain't.
The job is joy. Although I'm slow
I save expense:
So folks, let me before I go,
Smart that ol' fence.
Them pickets with my hands I made,
When young and spry;
I coloured them a gleeful shade
To glad the eye.
So now as chirpy as a boy,
'Ere I go hence,
Once more let me jest bright to joy
Our picket fence.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Tree-Toad
''Scurious-like,' said the tree-toad,
'I've twittered far rain all day;
And I got up soon,
And I hollered till noon--
But the sun, hit blazed away,
Till I jest clumb down in a crawfish-hole,
Weary at heart, and sick at soul!
'Dozed away far an hour,
And I tackled the thing agin;
And I sung, and sung,
Till I knowed my lung
Was jest about give in;
And then, thinks I, ef hit don't rain now.
There're nothin' in singin', anyhow!
'Once in awhile some
Would come a drivin' past;
And he'd hear my cry,
And stop and sigh--
Till I jest laid back, at last,
And I hollered rain till I thought my th'oat
Would bust right open at ever' note!
'But _I fetched_ her! O _I fetched_ her!--
'Cause a little while ago,
As I kindo' set,
With one eye shet,
And a-singin' soft and low,
A voice drapped down on my fevered brain,
Sayin',--' Ef you'll jest hush I'll rain!''
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Intended With Love
I've made so many errors and typos in my work,
To leave uncorrected.
They've become looked upon,
As clarifying those suspicious about this...
That I am not perfect.
And...
If I should correct those errors and typos,
The attention intended to give the message...
A comprehensive clarity,
Gives one then an opportunity...
To see something more between the lines,
Not there as had been intended.
This writing business,
Becomes more theraputic than one can believe.
Self analysis AND with feedback?
It just seems convenient to leave typos where they are,
And errors in language useage alone.
I find this procedure more effective.
It gives the reader a chance to bestow empathy.
Believing what is observed is unintended.
However...
The writer knows typos like fingers and toes.
If there are many as it is to be noticed.
And,
It is...
Intended,
With love.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
An Easy Goin' Feller
Ther' ain't no use in all this strife,
An' hurryin', pell-mell, right thro' life.
I don't believe in goin' too fast
To see what kind o' road you've passed.
It ain't no mortal kind o' good,
'N' I would n't hurry ef I could.
I like to jest go joggin' 'long,
To limber up my soul with song;
To stop awhile 'n' chat the men,
'N' drink some cider now an' then.
Do' want no boss a-standin' by
To see me work; I allus try
To do my dooty right straight up,
An' earn what fills my plate an' cup.
An' ez fur boss, I'll be my own,
I like to jest be let alone,
To plough my strip an' tend my bees,
An' do jest like I doggoned please.
My head's all right, an' my heart's meller,
But I'm a easy-goin' feller.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Flirtatious
flirting
what can it injure?
its a no contact sport
eyes only caress
the tongue gives to the Id
a vague silver finesse
subtle body language
but no wrought intentions
perhaps an almost
racy double entendre
a strangely place intonation
possibly a phrase that
could be taken either way
these are common
to both sexes
a woman
has her ways
to frustrate
tease
cause malaise
in the work day
dangling swaying
her shoe from the foot
a shoulder almost but
not quite out of place
a rub of her neck before
she answers the question
looking over her shoulder
at her intended
come hither look
to make him smolder
raising her arms
to fix her hair
she knows what she raises
when she goes there
the fellas have
their own style
I must just smile
they lean in
play with their tie
eyes fixed, wide smile
I know they do not like
replacing the copy toner
but for some reason
this gives them a
reason to speak
of their latest
soccer conquest
give a remark in jest
thump their
hand on their chest
If it gets too much
a toss of the hair
your outta there
no harm no foul
he will settle down
he does not
have your number,
or does he?
poem by Sandra Dodd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!