No Elegy For Plaster Teeth (Part 1)
Bony greying woman in a plaster-spattered coat
Mixes stuff of which they're formed with mind afar-remote
Pours the moulds, prepares their beds in fluffy little piles
Therapists in pastel scrubs fly in and out with smiles.
Schooled to their desired shape in template alginate
Mallow soft to nougat hard, delivered, lives oblate
White or pink, uniquely formed with pegs arrayed askew
Four-percent neanderthal effects are coming through.
'Dog ate the retainer' states a form and gives her pause
One way or another pesky canines are her cause
Trims and shapes didactically, prepares them for the fray
Pristine 'fore the onslaught, knows they'll barely last a day.
(Note; refers to the models on which dental appliances are built)
poem by Diane Hine
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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White Hat White Coat
To the late doug whalan.... from your daughter.....
White hat white coat and greying in hair
he would dance around the dance floor with plenty of flair
White hat white coat black pants to boot
the men would all say 'silly old coot'
Whitehat white coat and a big friendly smile
when he went to a dance he'd dress in style
White hat white coat and a beat in his feet
it's of to the dance and people to meet
White hat white coat and a scotch on the rocks he'd love to dance
and the men would all mock
White hat white coat asleep at the wheel
he's danced all night 'boy i know how he feels'
White hat white coat have been put to the test
it's time to go home for a well earned rest
White hat white coat clean shirt and socks too
he's all geard up and ready for round two
White hat white coat so tired and run down
close your eyes and dream of your nights on the town
White hat white coat you've seen better days
your torn around the edges and your starting to fray
White hat white coat the time's come for us to part
but always remember ' i love you with all my heart '
poem by Debbie Gregory
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Pink Coat
The pink coat
She put on when it was cold
The pink coat
That was hung up when she was home
The pink coat
That kept her warm
The pink coat
That witnessed her first cut
The pink coat
She wore when she was crying
The pink coat
That knew her plans
The pink coat
That saw what happened
The pink coat
She had on when she walked in front of that truck
The pink coat
That witnessed it all
The pink coat
Had no one to keep warm, now
The pink coat
That wanted to tell everyone the truth about her
Just;
The pink coat
poem by Alyssa Ray
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Fairies
They are formed with affection,
They are formed by a small child,
They are formed by a lone mind,
Now they start to fill the skies,
Life recovers from the cold,
Dancing amongst the blossom,
They're wherever we don't look,
Hiding from our prying eyes,
Life gets scorched by the cruel sun,
Dancing in the warm night breeze,
They scamper from human sounds,
Hiding from our prying eyes,
Life prepares for the darkness,
Dancing on dying leaves,
They're nowhere that we can find,
Hiding from our prying eyes,
Life is sleeping through the cold,
Dancing on the icy mist,
They find solace when alone,
Hiding from our prying eyes,
They are killed with denial,
They are killed by a small child,
They are killed with a glass jar,
Until they are almost gone.
poem by Christian Lacdael
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Perceptions of Pink
You asked me the other day if I saw in pink.
I wasn’t so much surprised by the question
(because I knew neon was how you saw the world)
as I was caught off-guard by it;
no one ever asked me if I saw in color before.
I gave you the first answer that came to mind–
No. I saw the world in cliches and over-used metaphors.
I told you I love anything average and sappy.
Yet, I started thinking more about pink;
specifically, a handmade, chenille, pastel-pink blanket.
I brought my textured pink close enough to examine,
I saw the threads that were frayed, the ones soft with use,
and the occasional red and white strings not hidden well enough.
I saw the craftsmanship: the passion that moves into forms
and the discipline it takes to create.
If you were to walk by me and my blanket of cliches,
you would say you saw a handmade, chenille, pastel-pink blanket.
I invite you yo look closer, as I have done,
to the red passions, the cool-white of discipline, the interwoven threads,
and you will see that everything is the color pink.
poem by Carrie D'Amato
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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So far, 44 States, or 88 percent of the States, have enacted laws providing that marriage shall consist of a union between a man and a woman. Only 75 percent of the States are required to approve a constitutional amendment.
quote by Jack Kingston
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Today, barely 5 percent of all containers coming into the United States through our ports are scanned.
quote by Alcee Hastings
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Today... 'Former of all things
God formed the universe including Earth
and by His word gave virgin light its birth.
His glory the angelic beings proclaim
this great God, the Lord of Hosts is His name.
Then gathering the dust upon the ground
He formed the very first man from that mound.
Stooping down His lips met this man of His
and tenderly breathed in life with a kiss.
Taking a rib from this man called Adam
He clothed it with flesh and formed a woman.
A gift from God for Adam to receive
a beautiful woman whose name was Eve.
The Former of all things had a great plan
to create the universe and make man.
But all of these former things will not last
by His new creation they'll be surpassed.
(see also the additional information below in the Poet's box)
Mama's Girl
A child I got my mother said
A blue eyed girl with just one curl
Upon that tiny head but still I bet
Someday braids will crown that face so red
The years flew by the body grew
And Mama said it still is you
Hard times have formed the mind
Important is be always kind
And so I grew to womanhood
A happy gal she knew I would
With children to the count of five
It made my life a busy beehive
I always remember my dear Mama
And teach my children her dogma
Hard time may not have formed their mind
But still I say, please always be kind.
poem by Ingeborg von Finsterwalde
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From the Green Eye
Eye the river which is formed by why.
Eye as for the river my mind has been formed by the why.
From the green eye which is older than the last bend now strait.
Eye of the blood from one person the river of ancient times.
And as human as the world,
like the river you were brought up why deeply.
The dawn is young, for you why me who she is and I.
When hearing, rising up from the mud and singing.
The river which is formed by the first ancient why.
Ancient times, dusky river filled over in mist.
Eye for my mind,
like the river you were brought up to rise deeply, bloody why.
poem by Is It Poetry
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stop Abortions Now
The unborn baby in the womb
Is also life, like me and you;
And God allowed it to be formed
Despite the seed, by mistake sown.
But life is life, at any stage,
And sacred when it is human;
God forbids you to kill the next,
On any sort of new pretext.
The love of God that sustains you
Is duty-bound to protect lives;
Man has no right to reject life
Once formed, without his full consent.
The God of life protects creatures,
He made with love, for sake of man;
But freedom that He gave to man
Does not include the right to kill.
No man can take another’s life:
God was angry with Cain’s folly;
The baby in the womb can’t talk,
Nor run away to save its life.
Nor can it voice its protest too,
Like how a pup or kitten does!
STOP ABORTIONS NOW- man, woman!
-The foulest form of murder known.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-29-2008
poem by John Celes
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Dedicated to Hesse's Goldmund
The old master sat,
withering like winter’s flowers
as he shrank -
from encroaching onslaught of creeping death.
He had watched many shapes and faces, so held
shimmering vision on virile edge of his mind.
Afterwards thoughts never ceased to plague
in every shape, a certain form repetition of line.
I think matters not what one thought or speaks.
but what we shape with willing hands before time.
So from fetal dream began careful drawing
with loving fingers, clearer its shape defined.
To picture wondrous root of image making; grief transmuted -
seeking to formulate thoughts; the sharper to bind.
Envisaged image was a perfect whole
without flaw, symmetry
sprung from life, from sacrosanct depths,
he held it within his mind.
Then cast it forth like a radiant jewel
many faceted,
even in darkness,
in faintest light it will shine.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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What Do We Do With The Rest Of The Night
(john rich/wally wilson/sharon rice)
Weve been through enough tequila
To float us outta this place
And through the smoke I can barely see ya
But Ive memorized your face
Weve danced almost every dance
Lasted longer then the band
Oh but were not through
Its just me and you
What do we do with the rest of the night
We got all of this time on our hands
Hey a lot can go down fore the sun comes up
Between a woman and a man
No we dont have to worry bout the rest of our lives
But what do we do with the rest of the night
We can take this party down to the river
Lay a blanket on the grass
Watch the stars tangle up together
While the night slides past
We can do what we wanna do
Roll away that book of rules
Well make our own
Hey nothings carved in stone
What do we do with the rest of the night
We got all of this time on our hands
Hey a lot can go down fore the sun comes up
Between a woman and a man
No we dont have to worry bout the rest of our lives
But what do we do with the rest of the night
What do we do with the rest of the night
We got all of this time on our hands
Hey a lot can go down fore the sun comes up
Between a woman and a man
No we dont have to worry bout the rest of our lives
But what do we do with the rest of the night
What do we do with the rest of the night
song performed by by Lonestar
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sound of fire
The animal in you takes shape
and transforms,
the body into animal form.
The teeth extend
out of the mouth.
The fingers cripple
backwards into claws
and the back arches upward.
The beast is formed
and is set free,
to run about
and fly forward
on the ground.
The beast is light
as a feather
and gravity is no more,
and the eyes
focus in shape
to see distances far and wide.
poem by Kristy Winter
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I believe that I understand gangs better than others. Because they're formed out of necessity. They're formed by people to keep from being suppressed.
quote by Jack Bowman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Autobiography Of A Snowflake
In a Nimbostratus cloud I formed.
a trooper of the coming storm.
From a droplet, cold, alone,
my Starry crystal flake was formed
Expelled from my Eden by the wind
Thus did my descent begin.
Swarovski can’t produce my equal.
I’m unique- they’ll be no sequel.
Perhaps I’ll help cover your grass
Or, with the others, clog your paths.
On roads I’ll make your rear wheels slide
And make you wish you’d stayed inside
I glide in, glittering, past street lights
The earth already wrapped in White
Surprised I am to melt so young
captured on your daughter’s tongue.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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{painted Pink Sky}
My eyes set their gaze across the horizon
The sun is setting in late fall afternoon
Cold snap in the air as the leaves swirl about
A welcoming view is the painted pink sky
Streaks of pale blue dotted with white
Have been suddenly brushed with a soft pastel
The beauty is breathtaking, such natural artistry
I am in awe of the painted pink sky
I think of you now, how magnificent it would be
To find ultimate and much needed serenity
Wrapped up in your strong arms in loves sweet embrace
To be held by you under the painted pink sky
poem by Lillian Jamison
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Fogbound
Friend perhaps
at a distance
you see me better
separated by time
and ocean wave.
Where body
has no shape
only mind
stands forth
formed shapeless.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mr. Fluffles
Mr. Fluffles, the pink chinchilla
No more biting, just stop it will ya?
I know you hate the fact that you're pink
But I can not help what it is that I think
I know you're just a vivid hallucination
And the fact that you're pink doesn't offer a lot of intimidation
But when your 40 brothers and sisters all sit there staring at me
I have to admit its kinda creepy
Mr. Fluffles, just so soft and fluffy
But when you get to biting you're just not cuddly
Why can't you just let me be
You're not Kato so why do ambush me
You just look so cute when you go to sleep
Curled up in a fuzzy ball, counting sheep
So now we go to sleep and let our problems float away
But I know you'll get to biting this next up coming day
Cause you're Mr. Fluffles, the pink chinchilla
You'd probably stop the biting if I colored you vanilla
But I just can't help it, why can't you see
Ow! Mr. Fluffles no more biting me
poem by Vasto Grom
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Who Prepares the Marshmellows Roasted By These Nutts?
What possibly could be in the mind of someone,
Who says and does things with intent.
And not be prepared to deal with the consequences?
There are those who psychologically maim others.
And expect forgiveness with a forgetting done.
Who prepares the marshmellows roasted by these nutts?
An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth...
And what goes around comes back means nothing to them.
And the older they get,
It seems the nitwit in them seeks validation!
What possibly could be in the mind of someone,
Who says and does things with intent.
And not be prepared to deal with the consequences?
Who prepares the marshmellows roasted by these nutts?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Watching For Shapes
Written by ricky & marty wilde
Influences now are things that are all around me
Changing shape as they move around in an open mind
Coloured in by the images I find
Im just watching for shapes that grow
Im just watching for shapes that grow
(watching for shapes that grow)
Like electric sparks they danced by an open mirror
Closing doors never looking round but its not goodbye
Theyll be there till Im taken out I know
Im just watching for shapes that grow
Im just watching for shapes that grow
(watching for shapes that grow)
In my mind theres a space thats full of painted pictures
Things I did that I went through, but cant recall
Now and then theres a flash of the unknown
Im just watching for shapes that grow
Im just watching for shapes that grow
(watching for shapes that grow)
(watching for shapes that grow)
(watching for shapes that grow)
song performed by by Kim Wilde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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