Alone
Over the fence, the dead settle in
for a journey. Nine o'clock.
You are alone for the first time
today. Boys asleep. Husband out.
A beer bottle sweats in your hand,
and sea lavender clogs the air
with perfume. Think of yourself.
Your arms rest with nothing to do
after weeks spent attending to others.
Your thoughts turn to whether
butter will last the week, how much
longer the car can run on its partial tank of gas.
poem by Deborah Ager
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tommy's Dead
YOU may give over plough, boys,
You may take the gear to the stead,
All the sweat o' your brow, boys,
Will never get beer and bread.
The seed's waste, I know, boys,
There's not a blade will grow, boys,
'Tis cropped out, I trow, boys,
And Tommy's dead.
Send the colt to fair, boys,
He's going blind, as I said,
My old eyes can't bear, boys,
To see him in the shed;
The cow's dry and spare, boys,
She's neither here nor there, boys,
I doubt she's badly bread;
Stop the mill to-morn, boys,
There'll be no more corn, boys,
Neither white nor red;
There's no sign of grass, boys,
You may sell the goat and the ass, boys,
The land's not what it was, boys,
And the beasts must be fed:
You may turn Peg away, boys,
You may pay off old Ned,
We've had a dull day, boys,
And Tommy's dead.
Move my chair on the floor, boys,
Let me turn my head:
She's standing there in the door, boys,
Your sister Winifred!
Take her away from me, boys,
Your sister Winifred!
Move me round in my place, boys,
Let me turn my head,
Take her away from me, boys,
As she lay on here death-bed,
The bones of her thin face, boys,
As she lay on her death-bed!
I don't know how it be, boys,
When all's done and said,
But I see her looking at me, boys,
Whenever I turn my head;
Out of the big oak tree, boys,
Out of the garden-bed,
And the lily as pale as she, boys,
And the rose that used to be red.
There's something not right, boys,
But I think it's not in my head,
I've kept my precious sight, boys, --
The Lord be hallowéd!
Outside and in
The ground is cold to my tread,
The hills are wizen and thin,
The sky is shrivelled and shred,
The hedges down by the loan
I can count them bone by bone,
The leaves are open and spread,
But I see the teeth of the land,
And hands like a dead man's hand,
And the eyes of a dead man's head.
There's nothing but cinders and sand,
The rat and the mouse have fed,
And the summer's empty and cold;
Over valley and wold
Wherever I turn my head
There's a mildew and a mould,
The sun's going out overhead,
And I'm very old,
And Tommy's dead.
What am I staying for, boys,
You're all born and bred,
'Tis fifty years and more, boys,
Since wife and I were wed,
And she'd gone before, boys,
And Tommy's dead.
She was always sweet, boys,
Upon his curly head,
She knew she'd never see't, boys,
And she stole off to bed;
I've been siting up alone, boys,
For he'd come home, he said,
But it's time I was gone boys,
For Tommy's dead.
Put the shutters up, boys,
Bring out the beer and bread,
Make haste and sup, boys,
For my eyes are heavy as lead:
There's something wrong i' the cup, boys,
There's something ill wi' the bread,
I don't care to sup, boys,
And Tommy's dead.
I'm not right, I doubt, boys,
I've such a sleepy head,
I shall nevermore be stout, boys,
You may carry me to bed.
What are you about, boys?
The prayers are all said,
The fire's raked out, boys,
And Tommy's dead.
The stairs are too steep, boys,
You may carry me to the head,
The night's dark and deep, boys,
Your mother's long in bed,
'Tis time to go to sleep, boys,
And Tommy's dead.
I'm not used to a kiss, boys,
You may shake my hand instead.
All things go amiss, boys,
You may lay me where she is, boys,
And I'll rest my old head:
'Tis a poor world, this, boys,
And Tommy's dead.
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Can't Fall Asleep
My thoughts keep me up at night,
my tears put me to sleep,
my dreams wake me up,
after only an hour of sleep.
I can't rest no more,
I can't fall back to sleep,
so I lie in bed for hours at a time,
watching the clock as the time keeps going by.
I toss and I turn,
trying to find something comforable,
but when I'm almost asleep,
my thoughts wake me up again.
So I lay there thinking the thoughts,
that wont leave me alone.
I try time and time again,
but I cant fall back to sleep.
Finally I fall asleep,
but then i quickly hear a noise,
it is my alarm telling me to get up for the day ahead,
but it doesnt realize that I've been up all night.
Thinking, thinking of those thoughts that won't let me sleep.
So I quickly turn off the annoying buzzing noise,
and there I lay in my bed,
dreading the day ahead.
poem by Rebeckah Schroeder
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Man And Bottle
Just an empty brandy bottle by the door
An empty bottle standing on the floor
Last week 'twas worth a carpenter's day's pay
But now it isn't worth taking away.
Last week 'twas full of brandy to the top
But in it now there's not a single drop
Just like a candy box without the candy
What value a brandy bottle without brandy?
The man who drank the brandy he is dead
Like all dead men a pine box is his bed
He rests in peace where all dead people lay
Six foot under graveyard earth and clay.
He drank the brandy and then drove his car
But alas the poor man did not travel far
His car left the road and crashed against a tree
And with his life he paid for gluttony.
Next time you're in a bar and have to drive a car, do think
Hard liquor is a thing you ought not drink
Spare a thought for the poor man who drank the brandy
And ask the publican for a beer shandy.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Dear wife
I work so hard
I have no time for supper, breakfast, and dinner
Got a cracker and a noodle
A little solid a little hot liquid Are enough since I need a lot of time
Before my computer And this is non-stop working for the whole day
My cell phone is on silent mode and I cannot open it
I work the whole day, concentrated and straight It is eleven o’clock in the evening I arrive in the house and you say a lot of things I do not care anymore as I drag my dead tired body Towards the room and eyes half-closed I almost stepped upon your expensive porcelain vase
I lay on bed my shoes and sock still on my feet I did know anything since then Dead tired I am dead asleep.
If you are unhappy and do not like me
Find the man who is not tired, just leave me I am dead asleep.
i am just your loving husband, tomorrow i will still be your loving husband, yes tomorrow, even if you decided to go away.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Settle Down My Boy
Settle down, an eat your peas and gravy, my boy
Settle down, settle down my boy settle down
Stop wasting all your time with running around the town
Settle down, settle down my boy settle down
Knuckle down and find a job and take some responsibility
Settle down, settle down my boy settle down
The futures something you should be thinking about
Settle down, settle down my boy settle down
Look around for a wife to start a family, my boy
Settle down, settle down my boy settle down
Listen toy our father and hell tell you the same as me
Settle down, settle down my boy settle down
Your words would go in one ear and out the other side
Dont say my head was empty and I had things to hide
And you better put something away for your old age
So settle down, settle down my boy settle down
Settle down, settle down my boy settle down uh huh huh
song performed by by Men At Work
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lavender Fileds
Running free with your heartbeat -
Running away from the bad dreams -
Embraced in your sweet arms -
Come Rose dropp Kisses -
Flowing in billowing streams.
Lavender Fields of our desire -
Running with you, throughout time -
The passion-filled moments spent -
In Our: 'Most heavenly Climb'
Never one to be sentimental -
But your romance, it took my hand -
And it led me towards:
'True Loves Most Eternal Land'
Once, i was running on empty -
Once, running away, in sheer vain -
Now that i have you beside me -
Gone is all emptimess and pain.
Roses and Lavender breeze -
Dreams weave, their very own way -
Together, we are:
'Forever'
Alone, in Lavender Fields, we now lay.
poem by Theodora Onken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Lavender And Green
Will you come to me in lavender and green?
With bells about your feet,
And music in your step,
When you come to me in lavender and green.
Will you come to me in lavender and green?
With sunshine in your eyes,
And springtime in your hair,
When you come to me in lavender and green.
Will you come to me in lavender and green?
With softness in your words,
And healing in your touch,
When you come to me in lavender and green.
Will you come to me in lavender and green?
With your name upon my lips,
And delight within your kiss,
When you come to me in lavender and green.
Will you come to me in lavender and green,
In dreams at midnight’s rest,
Or afternoon’s recline?
Come then to me in lavender and green.
Will you come to me in lavender and green,
At the setting of the sun,
When my days are nearly run?
Still come to me in lavender and green?
Will you come to me in lavender and green,
If I wait at heaven’s door,
As I waited once before,
While you walked to organ’s tune,
On a summer’s afternoon.
Now dressed in springtime hues?
My love, companion, muse,
A vision still I see,
Dressed in lavender and green.
poem by Greg Davidson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At Six O'clock
I heard the Ave Maria at six o'clock,
Today hear crimes on the radio at six o'clock.
I watched The Little Princess on tv at six o'clock,
Today watch explicit sex at six o’clock.
I was playing catch-up with my friends at six o'clock,
Today lonely children play atari at six o'clock.
I drank hot soup at six o’clock,
Today guys smoke crack at six o'clock.
I prayed to the guardian angel at six o'clock,
Today they kill people at six o'clock.
I studied algebra at six o'clock,
Today are planned crimes at six o'clock.
I was happy at six o'clock,
Today are all scared at six o'clock.
Parody in honor of Llorca
poem by Aschelminto Da Silva
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cancer Of The Cervix
her husband left her
when their kids were just
a matter
of three, four, five years
she had to feed
them alone with the use
of her very own flesh
literally. i mean it.
all daughters went
to Japan and danced.
they married and
got rich.
and then she wore
an expensive jewelry
on her hands and
ears
and then he wrote
a letter saying that
he likes to come
back. She
opened her arms
to hug him.
i went to manila
and spent my
life there
in three days.
attending to her
wake
offering prayers
for her
dead and wasted
body.
i am learning
in that place
what is betrayal
what is forgiveness
what is reconciliation
what is death
what is it to be lost in a crowd
what is it to be left alone
what is cancer?
and they always say the truth
there is no cure.
may she rest in peace.
amen.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Where lies the lust?
?
In a running train,
sitting opposite, he and she
spent their journey,
little engaged in talks,
but mostly outside in gaze.
Husband and wife, they’re.
Another pair likewise
spent their journey
in incessant talks,
often by inventing,
conscious of each other.
Husband and wife, they’re not.
05.04.99
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Constant Static
Eyes open, I'm wide awake
I feel I'm in a coma state
I'll lay here on my back and watch the fan turn
Conversations cross my mind, but nothing of the speaking kind
TV images repeat there one lines
Back and forth I toss and turn
It feels like strings are holding up my eyes
I'd kill to fall asleep
I'd kill to fall asleep
Putting up a losing fight
I'll never see this end tonight
The thought of just one dream it consumes me
Numbers on the clock turn back, my pleas are having no affect
The beating of my heart keeps the time going
Back and forth I toss and turn
It feels like strings are holding up my eyes
I'd kill to fall asleep
I'd kill to fall asleep
They say that when you sleep your body's at rest
I wouldn't know what sleep felt like if I tried my best
Polaroids and memories can fade away, so can I...
Back and forth I toss and turn
It feels like strings are holding up my eyes
I'd kill to fall asleep
I'd kill to fall asleep
I'd kill to fall asleep
I'd kill to fall asleep
I'd kill....
song performed by by New Found Glory
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Id Kill To Fall Asleep
Eyes open, I'm wide awake
I feel I'm in a coma state
I'll lay here on my back and watch the fan turn
Conversations cross my mind, but nothing of the speaking kind
TV images repeat there one lines
Back and forth I toss and turn
It feels like strings are holding up my eyes
I'd kill to fall asleep
I'd kill to fall asleep
Putting up a losing fight
I'll never see this end tonight
The thought of just one dream it consumes me
Numbers on the clock turn back, my pills are having no affect
The beating of my heart keeps the time going
Back and forth I toss and turn
It feels like strings are holding up my eyes
I'd kill to fall asleep
I'd kill to fall asleep
They say that when you sleep your body's at rest
I wouldn't know what sleep felt like if I tried my best
Polaroids and memories can fade away, so can I...
Back and forth I toss and turn
It feels like strings are holding up my eyes
I'd kill to fall asleep
I'd kill to fall asleep
I'd kill to fall asleep
I'd kill to fall asleep
I'd kill....
song performed by by New Found Glory
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Test Week
Here comes test week one
There is less time for fun.
Boys are studying hard all day
For them to top in some way.
Some have english first than chemistry
Then physics, maths and history.
They stay up late till twelve 'o' clock
The studying never seems to stop.
For maths, boys practice many sums
And do so well that 'hundred' comes.
Books in the morning, books at night
Books, books, books all the time.
Then comes the end of 'test week one'
Now its time for all the fun.
Nest week inter-house soccer begins
The competitions tough....
....Never know who's going to win!
poem by Varun Pais
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Farmer's Wife
‘Why the commotion now, my love?
You cry at the breaking dawn,
The dog's asleep in his kennel still
Though the cock has crowed for the morn;
The birds have stirred in the branches there
Of the willow, out by the lake,
Why do you weep, and cry, and mourn
Before you're even awake? '
‘What became of the silence we
Enjoyed in the days gone by,
When a simple glance was enough romance
And we lay, looked up at the sky.
When a whispered word that I barely heard
Would sound from your own sweet lips,
As my hand reached out to relieve your doubt,
Caressing your fingertips? '
‘I must get out to the barley field,
The sheep are starting to lamb,
The fence is down by the hillside mound,
And the water's leached from the dam,
The days are long, and I must be strong
For the work will never keep,
So why do you lie and weep and cry
When I need to get to sleep? '
‘The pigs broke out of the pen last night,
I must rebuild the sty,
They're wandering over the cabbage patch,
So today, it's do or die!
I haven't the help I used to have
Since John - well! I should have said,
He toppled the tractor in the ditch
And now, well now, he's dead! '
‘Nothing will bring him back you know,
Your crying's all in vain,
All of those hours he spent with you
They caused me only pain!
Settle your head and love me now
As once you did in the past…'
‘Never! ' she said, her eyes were dead
And the tears came thick and fast!
10 May 2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Going to Tuscany
Just outside the window
at the fountain
a place in Tuscany
runs into violet hills
of lavender
against the outer wall
and sweet lavender perfume
drifts into the room.
In the corridor
between the bedrooms
and your studio
paintings of scenes
in Tuscany
shows where your heart
wants to go.
On the bed next to me
twin peaks with delicate
red brown nipples
rise inviting
with their own
perfume drawing me closer
to fields of your lavender.
To some they could be
big South African rondavels
shading against the African sun,
but more likely they
are pale white villas
set high above your sea
where beyond auburn bushes
is as secret hidden pond.
Streets meander up and down
soft and firm
arms and legs
while Tuscany rises
in the middle of me
and a hot welcome breezes
like the Tuscan wind
against my hand
and I feel passionate rain
between your legs
and I see daylight and stars
in your eyes
and your lashes
open and close
like table-clothes
jerked by a storm
coming in from the sea
in great old Tuscany
and I drive my Tuscany into you,
into a street of wondrous delicacies
and we go to Tuscany
where fields of lavender grow
and I know that it is like heaven
but somewhere here on earth
and Tuscany reflects in your eyes
and I hear it in your sighs
and Tuscany is right here.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Christmas Prayer
God, please turn back, the hands of time
I beg of you
I've neglected my family
And turned my back on you too.
Please turn back the clock
To a distant sunrise
The one, which hold my childrens first steps
Where instead of a hangover
Joy can be seen in the tears of my eyes
I'll give you all that I have
For the chance to be there
To read my verse
Kiss away their fears
And show that I care
To be a husband, a lover
And be the best friend
To my childrens mother
I turn to you
Now in my time of pain
For I see that doing it my way
Has been a journey in vain
I now see the way
Of what you all expect
A life filled with love and joy
With little regret
From this moment on
I'll listen to you
God, please help my family
As I again lay my burdens on you
Before I go, I have one request
As you know, it's Christmas
Instead of a list, I have, just one wish
To be the dad and husband
That my family does need
To be a good man and
Have you strengthen my hope
To witness all souls flying
free
poem by Matt Mondschein
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The Clock Keeps Ticking
I want alone to be
I want to drown in lonely sea
But the clock keeps ticking
I want to stop
I want to forever halt
But the clock keeps beating
I want to run
I want far away from land
But the clock keeps pursuing
I want to hide
I no more want to think of fight
But the clock keeps shouting
I want to rest
I want in dream hibernate
But the clock keeps breaking
I want to sing
I want to strengthen the spring
But the clock keeps shaking
I want to only follow
I no longer want to know
But the clock keeps pumping
I want to hurt
I don’t care if I should hate
But the clock keeps moving
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Bones of a Bad girl
Flesh to flesh
Thoughts to thoughts
Bad girl, bad thoughts
Bad girl wants to touch flesh
But bad man slaps hand away
Bad deeds, good thoughts
No flesh for bad girl
Girls do not touch, thoughts unwelcome
Boys touch flesh, no bad boys
Friends who hold hands, bad girls
Boys who touch girl, good thoughts, warm flesh
Girls crave flesh, bad bad girl
Flesh turns cold, bad thoughts
No way out, big trouble
Flesh is melted, distorted, explored
Thoughts revere, devilish girl
Boys do deeds, good thoughts
Girl slapped on the wrist, more bad
Boys given treats, deeds undone
Girls have bad thoughts, naught arms purple
Flesh dark circles, sketches, screams
Bad wirls with thoughts and deeds, girl want flesh
No flesh is for free, girls still scream
poem by Kelsey Wallace
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Butter
Pull me from the toaster
Straight into the roaster
Fill my head with the stuff
Brightest dreams are made of
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Duh
Promising the big guns
Reward when the light comes
Screaming from the damage done
Screaming from the damage done
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Duh
Butter me up, butter me up
Butter me up, butter me up
Butter me up, butter me up
Butter me up, butter me up
Butter me up like I know you will
Cover it up like I know you will
Better yourself like I know you will
Breaking the trust like you always will
Be good for it, you never will
Be good for it, you never will
Be good for it, you never will
Be good for it, you never will
Butter me up, butter me up
Butter me up, butter me up
Butter me up, butter me up
Butter me up, butter me up
Duh
So you think you got the best
Thought I was like all the rest
Reaping from the damage done
Reaping from the damage done
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Duh
song performed by by Ultraspank
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Your Last Picture
you in black shirt
wet with sweat
on a blue train
in the city
you are holding
a bottle of beer
on your side is
the dalmatian
without the usual
rope in your hand
things run smoothly
like the train
like the round body
of the bottle of beer
like your dog
lying on the floor
of the train
one night
when all the
passengers
are gone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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