Waggle and Jounce
Out on the lake
the whitecaps leap,
old lions shot in midair.
Not far from the water
I sit on a knoll
and open your letter.
You're in Sacramento now
singing for money.
Here in Chicago,
on hot August nights,
I lick in my dreams
at the scoops
in your shoulders.
I prefer them to ice cream.
In a week I'll fly out
and salute your nipples.
Long may your buttocks
waggle and jounce.
poem by Donal Mahoney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Sneak a Little Lick
Don't...just...
Fuzzy up and cuddle on a peach.
Or sneak up peeping,
When you should be eating!
Every single piece of it!
You can...
Leap up and down behind the scenes.
Screaming about your future,
And...
Destiny!
But don't...
Sneak a little lick,
Then leave.
Don't you,
Sneak a little lick,
Then leave!
Don't,
Sneak a little lick.
Sneak a little lick.
Sneak a little lick,
Then leave!
Leap up and down behind the scenes.
Screaming about your future,
And destiny!
If that's your wish...
To pick it up to ditch!
But,
Don't you...
Sneak a little lick,
Then leave.
Don't you,
Sneak a little lick,
Then leave!
Don't,
Sneak a little lick.
Sneak a little lick.
Sneak a little lick,
Then leave!
Don't...just...
Fuzzy up and cuddle on a peach.
Or sneak up peeping,
When you should be eating!
Don't you...
Sneak a little lick,
Then leave.
Don't you...
Sneak a little lick,
Then leave!
Don't,
Sneak a little lick.
Sneak a little lick.
Sneak a little lick,
Then leave!
Leap up and down,
If that's your wish.
But that peach found,
Might be your gift.
So pick it up and eat it!
Don't you...
Sneak a little lick,
Then leave.
Don't you...
Sneak a little lick,
Then leave!
Don't,
Sneak a little lick.
Sneak a little lick.
Sneak a little lick,
Then leave!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Monkey money
When my son,
all blushing youth,
had a wish
I made it my adventure
to grant it.
When he wished for ice cream,
I got two scoops,
cold rounds of heaven,
so we could share the sweetness
because I like ice cream too.
When, eyes bright and innocent,
he wanted to play,
we'd explore Candyland together
and eat candy together
so that I could give him the full experience
of a world made of candy.
As he grew older,
he started wishing for money
even though he didn't know what it was,
and I convinced him
that the plastic monkeys
from the barrel were worth $10 apiece.
He always felt rich
and I got to keep my money
without being a disappointing parent
for a change.
poem by John W. McEwers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chicago Sestina
I am surprised by the streets of Chicago
when the palm of winter grips them with snow
as if to forgive the city’s mistakes
and give it a canvas that’s new, white, and clean–
its fingers, the branches on all of the trees
kneading the air that blows in from the lake.
I’ve never lived next to the pulse of the lake
(until I set foot down the side of Chicago)
breathing in through the streets and out through the trees
welcoming the cool of the wet, numbing snow.
It lets my mind slip into thinking it’s clean
as if to personally forgive my mistakes.
“But what have you done to forgive your mistakes? ”
Did I ask this? Or is that the voice of the lake?
Some days, not even does it appear clean,
worn down from its tall standing neighbor, Chicago.
It scrapes at the sky, asking it for more snow
to stick to and freeze the trunks of the trees.
If I were a branch on one of these trees
incapable of making a single mistake,
I’d grab at the sky as it shook out the snow
and grow my roots thick till they tasted the lake.
But I wouldn’t bend to the force of Chicago
that’s constantly keeping me from being clean.
And what does it mean to try to be clean?
I don’t understand the stillness of the trees
when they’re being attacked by the size of Chicago
as if to glorify the city’s mistakes
that glisten like stars at night on the lake
before it all froze and was covered with snow.
Ah! To imagine how long there’s been snow.
How can something this old still feel so clean
and dance through the wind that swoops in from the lake?
Is it the kneading by the spiny branches on trees
trusting that there will be no more mistakes
that leaves these the only pure thing in Chicago?
Here comes the snow that seeks out the trees
Am I now clean? Where are my mistakes?
Chicago belongs where it lay with the lake.
poem by Brian Maloney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Finding Chicago
I wanted to write poetry like Carl Sandburg.
I wanted to write about big cities and small towns,
about open prairies and rivers in the sky.
I wanted to write about the people:
plumbers, politicians, poets,
but I’d never been east of Tucson.
So I quit my dead end job,
closed out my savings account, all 600 dollars,
and went to Chicago in search of a poem.
Chicago—City of the Big Shoulders, wrote Sandburg.
But I couldn’t find it.
I found Chicago falling down around an old black man
leaning on his battered bass case, the way you lean
on a friend when you’re in need. And Thomas Jefferson
Brown was a man in need, shoulders sagging under
the weight of six decades of back alley blues bars
and his thirst for blended whiskey.
Chicago—Player with Railroads and the Nation’s Freight Handler,
wrote Sandburg.
But I couldn’t find it.
I found Chicago in a rusted heap of railroad cars, twisted
tracks and 55 gallon drums where bums built their fires.
Factories and warehouses empty, workers sitting in nearby
bars drinking beer, expecting checks at the end of the week.
Chicago—Stormy, husky, brawling, wrote Sandburg.
But I couldn’t find it.
I found Chicago shimmering in the shadows of towering
concrete, steel and glass along 32nd Street, poets reading
in bookstores and coffee houses, children marching
to museums, women with slim hips in black silk gowns,
men in tuxedos and Italian shoes, dressed for the theater.
I wanted to write poetry like Sandburg.
But I couldn’t find his Chicago.
poem by Clifton King
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A Lake And Its Magic Grace
I open my eyes this morning,
In front of me a marvelous landscape open up,
I am so amazed and happy,
And so astonished i become and contemplate.
A lake enriched with white water lilies,
Is developing to my eyes delight,
Its blue peaceful water vibrates,
When a white swan is touching it with grace.
Sun is rising up and warm this greatness,
When its beams are caressing the lake in shinning lights,
All it's coming to life and i can feel the joy,
Of the nature around that makes me smile.
A butterfly is flying to the water lilies,
And stopped for a few moments to enjoy their great perfume,
A fish is jumping restless for a breathe of air,
The birds are happily singing and fly to deep blue sky.
Nature shared with me all its greatness,
And i am humble pleased for what i seen,
I am happy to be the pasionate admirer,
Of this lake and its magic grace.
poem by Cristina Teodor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Only In Chicago
I went back
Yes I went back to find out
What we did wrong and
I went back
Yes I went back to see just
How we could feel so good
In Chicago
We seemed to have it all
It was real
It was love
I went back
And I sat by the lake
And looked at the stars
And oh I swear
I remember how much we laughed
And I loved you so
In Chicago
I know we had it all
It was real
It was love
Only in Chicago
Love is in the air
In Chicago
There's a magic there
In Chicago
Our Chicago
Baby, you and I
We tried to take it with us
But you can't go back
'Cause I went back to find out
What we did wrong and
Now I see
That it wasn't just you
It wasn't just me
It was Chicago
But I'm still in love with you
Only you
Only you
But only in Chicago
REPEAT CHORUS
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two August Stormclouds
August, and a sky
Chaotic as an abstract artist’s canvas:
Thin streaks of filigree
Intertwine with cruder lumps of cumulus
Precursors of sudden summer showers
That lie in wait
To surprise us with their anger.
Calm blue above:
Reminder of the quiet night,
A sea of sheer serenity.
August, and a day
Fantastic as a funfair filled with children:
Thin strands of candyfloss
Intermesh with messier scoops of ice-cream
Precursors of terrible toddler tantrums
That lie in wait
To harry us with their havoc.
Calm rest below:
Reminder of the holiday break,
A haven from the humdrum.
poem by C. Richard Miles
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Take Me Back To Chicago
Take me back to chicago
Lay my soul to rest
Where my life was free and easy
Remember me at my best
Take me back to chicago
Where music was all I had
I tried to be good as I could
And sometimes that made me sad
Take me back to chicago, to chicago
Why dont you take me back
Take me back, take me back
To chicago
I still dream of the lake of peacefulness
The warm summer breeze
cause my life was so much simpler then
Street corners and tastee freeze
Take me back to chicago
cause hustlins not my style
L.a. was just a bit too hard
I wish I could be a child
Livin back in chicago, in chicago
Why dont you take me back
Take me back, take me back
To chicago
Take me back to chicago
Lay my soul to rest
Where my life was free and easy
Remember me at my best
Take me back to chicago
cause hustlins not my style
L.a. was just a bit too hard
I wish I could be a child
Livin back in chicago, in chicago
Why dont you take me back
Take me back, take me back
To chicago
Take me back, take me back....
song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Anonymous Spirit...
The lake of solace was never turbulent one,
Truly, it never looked that way,
But earth's core has its own say,
You, Me, I, We, They cannot have its guarantee,
In dreams, Anonym meets in the Illuminati,
He was a dream-walker,
As the lake he was comfortably numb,
Not his sole,
Not his ether.
He wanted to clean his water, clean his guilt,
Follow the Illuminus as Divine Rhythm,
Change the water into wine,
But traps sailed his way,
Now Angels deserve to die.
The Judgement day was long down the boulevard,
Chances come, opportunities go,
A pilgrim turned down a pagan emerges,
A Holy Symphony of Destruction.
Again the Anonym arose for cleaning the eternal wounds,
Voices follow down the broken edge,
Spirits immaculate on the healing hymn,
Wake up my friend,
I am the only one to be the sober one,
You are saved,
I prefer that good,
You take it bad...
poem by Vikrant Jog
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Now That Youre Gone
(bernard edwards/nile rodgers)
My nights grow long
My nights grow long
Now that youre gone
My nights grow long
Now that youre gone
Now that youre gone
My nights grow long
Now that youre gone
Now that youre gone
Im living my life all alone
Or hit by a blow
To my pride
But Im doing ok
I wont let you see
What this has done to me
I guess Ill just take it in stride
Come what may
My nights grow long
My nights grow long
Now that youre gone
My nights grow long
Now that youre gone
Now that youre gone
My nights grow long
Now that youre gone
How can one do what should be done by two
I guess thats a crazy question to ask
I might seem happy
But dont be fooled by my appearance
Make no mistake
Im just wearing a mask
My nights grow long
My nights grow long
Now that youre gone
My nights grow long
Now that youre gone
Now that youre gone
My nights grow long
Now that youre gone
My nights grow long
My nights grow long
Now that youre gone
My nights grow long
Now that youre gone
Now that youre gone
My nights grow long
Now that youre gone
My nights grow long
My nights grow long
Now that youre gone
My nights grow long
Now that youre gone
Now that youre gone
My nights grow long
Now that youre gone
Now that youre gone
Now that youre gone
My nights grow long
Now that youre gone
My nights grow long
My nights grow long
Now that youre gone
My nights grow long
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Peach Knoll
Peach Knoll
A poem diffused in mid air, and the fog
to dropp off; to honor skies was our call,
attending a vow; there I recall our song,
comely ode, to recreate on Peach Knoll;
Up there we walked; O, so many stories
to recount; every detail was accurate,
amidst the trees, under a nightly Aries,
so many feelings, a night cold to equate.
How many trips we described in acuity,
and ports we reached in paths oceanic,
with our glary eyes staring to continuity,
and my nautical departure to Atlantic;
There we stayed; amidst the night trees,
our images to ascend a dream sceptic,
in trustful years, it was a simple breeze,
caressing vows, and your smile esthetic..
January night 't was, under an icy drizzle;
my leather jacket upon your shoulders
you denied, folded it, amidst the mizzle,
we both felt this vow, as it grew colder;
...................................
I walked uphill, at night, on twenty first,
similar drizzle to salute me, and to extoll
our song, as I walked on time reversed,
recalling your rainy smile, on Peach Knoll.
Copyright © - G. V.- 02.11.2012
/ PoemH 29822354
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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What I Feel Today
what i feel today is this
i am scooping some ice cream for you
five scoops of vanilla flavored
ice cream with marshmallow toppings
i hand them to you
with a very sweet smile
and you start licking and munching
marshmallows
inside my mind
is this pain inside my heart
is my aching tooth
but i am not telling you
or anybody
i am a very considerate man
trying always to please you
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lick It Up
Dont wanna wait til you know me better
Lets just be glad for the time together
Lifes such a treat and its time you taste it
There aint a reason on earth to waste it
It aint a crime to be good to yourself
Chorus:
Lick it up, lick it up, its only right now
Lick it up, lick it up, ooh yeah
Lick it up, lick it up, come on, come on
Lick it up, lick it up
Dont need to wait for an invitation
You gotta live like youre on vacation
Theres something sweet you cant buy with money - lick it up, lick it up
Its all you need, so believe me honey
It aint a crime to be good to yourelf
Chorus
Come on - its only right now (its only right now)
Ooh yeah (ooh yeah) ooh yeah (ooh yeah), yeah yeah
Chorus repeats out
song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Scoops of mint ice cream with chips of chocolate cows.
quote by Jim Bishop
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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So I Happen to Prefer Whole Wheat
Of course I'm sleazy!
Isn't that one of the requirements,
I had to admit to get you to date me?
'But I didn't think you were serious when I asked! '
So when did you take notice of it?
Before or after I began to lick,
The crunchy peanut butter off your nipples.
'Yeah...
But do you think holding them,
Between slices of whole wheat bread...
Really accomplishes anything? '
That's a matter of opinion!
So I happen to prefer whole wheat bread.
What's the problem here?
I was going to use the muffins.
Do you want me to use the muffins?
'I'm sensitive to multi-grain.'
Huh?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Price Of Water
The little lake, not far from the houses, has been
dry for years and is full of thistles and rubbish.
By, what was its shore, the sad rest of a rowboat
I remember it was blue, and someone had nicked
its oars; for firewood I take it. I used to row in
this lake in the evening catching trout.
When the moon made the lake into shimmering
silver my heart got quite wobbly by the beauty.
Last week I crossed the lake on my scooter, it was
not easy I lost my balance and was badly stung,
gasped for air, felt as drowning in a dry lagoon.
In the future the new commodity will be water.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Money Slips Like Water From Her Fingers
she must be angry
of money,
the moment money comes
through
for her to hold
she spreads her fingers
and there the money
slips
like water
like her dreams
slipping away
from her mind
slipping away
seems to be her game
i don't know
why she can't help herself
hold on to dreams
or simply to money
and save
a little about her future
now she comes
as poor as a rat
short of money and dreams and plans
she cries
and i tell her, it's nobody's fault
just hers alone
poem by Antonio Liao
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9th August
On the 9th of August,
And you shot my right leg with a gun!
9th August,
And you pierced my waist with a knife!
But, i am still with my pains on the right leg.
I am was on the path of love and,
You hinded my plans with this gun shot;
So i will always rember this day.
Your own act had made you my enemy,
But i will surely overcome this pain one day;
And will still look for my lover.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Week In Week Out
IIs there something more?
Surely there must be
You can't lose everything
So you're quite happy
To live with nothing more
Than a life-long shopping list
You tick off on credit
Well you'll pay for it
Week in and week out
Your lucky charms will always let you down
Maybe next week, we'll see
Maybe
You stand in life completely still
Feel really truly unfulfilled
Week in week out
Where are you going to turn?
When all ambition fails?
Why try any more
If human nature's stale?
Invite the hand of God
To touch the lucky few
There's no such thing as God
Nor easy money too?
Week in and week out
These lucky charms will always let you down
Maybe next week, we'll see
Maybe
You stand in life completely still
Feel really truly unfulfilled
Week in week out
Week in and week out
Your lucky charms will always let you down
Maybe next week, we'll see
Maybe
You stand in life completely still
Feel really truly unfulfilled
Week in week out
song performed by by Ordinary Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shadowy nocturne
It is midsummer,
and the nights are hot.
Black horse is strolling along the lake,
trying to delve into another world.
Black horse is rather sad tonight,
the white horse is not following behind,
no one chats with it,
no one plays with it,
only its shadow follows it.
It stops.
looking at the lake quietly.
The moon,
falling on water,
makes it white, inscrutable,
giving the shadow a burnish and a silver plating.
The black horse,
it can not spend its life chasing after shadow,
no matter it is an anguish or elation,
it must have a brave act,
telling the white horse what you feel.
(17th of August,2004)
poem by Trino Chan
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