L’Art
Green arsenic smeared on an egg-white cloth,
Crushed strawberries! Come, let us feast our eyes.
poem by Ezra Pound
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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L'Art
Green arsenic smeared on an egg-white cloth,
Crushed strawberries! Come, let us feast our eyes.
poem by Ezra Pound
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Interlude
When I have baked white cakes
And grated green almonds to spread on them;
When I have picked the green crowns from the strawberries
And piled them, cone-pointed, in a blue and yellow platter;
When I have smoothed the seam of the linen I have been working;
What then?
To-morrow it will be the same:
Cakes and strawberries,
And needles in and out of cloth
If the sun is beautiful on bricks and pewter,
How much more beautiful is the moon,
Slanting down the gauffered branches of a plum-tree;
The moon
Wavering across a bed of tulips;
The moon,
Still,
Upon your face.
You shine, Beloved,
You and the moon.
But which is the reflection?
The clock is striking eleven.
I think, when we have shut and barred the door,
The night will be dark
Outside.
poem by Amy Lowell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When And How
Could Jane Austen really have been a victim of Emerald Green? *
Or the workings of a homicidal maniac to say the least?
A blood-thirsty demon with ice water in his veins?
A true psychopath-preparing a virtual feast? ;
Compared to a modern-day hitman or woman
With the contract in their evil hands
First, to befriend their marks...
Hence, designing their cold blooded plan...
Setting their perfect time line...? ? ?
Alerted: The time is now...! ! !
Sinister-Reptilian Of Death
Arsenic-Is The How...
First In My Series: Murder For Hire
Not necessarily fiction
As in the death of Jane Austen
It is believed that arsenic may have been the weapon and
The how of her death
*Emerald Green-another name for an Arsenic compound
It is: AS and is number 33...in the Element Table.
By, Theodora Onken
February 5,2012
poem by Theodora Onken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Curly Locks
_Curly Locks! Curly Locks! wilt thou be mine?
Thou shalt not wash the dishes, nor yet feed the swine,--
But sit on a cushion and sew a fine seam,
And feast upon strawberries, sugar and cream._
Curly Locks! Curly Locks! wilt thou be mine?
The throb of my heart is in every line,
And the pulse of a passion as airy and glad
In its musical beat as the little Prince had!
Thou shalt not wash the dishes, nor yet feed the swine!--
O I'll dapple thy hands with these kisses of mine
Till the pink of the nail of each finger shall be
As a little pet blush in full blossom for me.
But sit on a cushion and sew a fine seam,
And thou shalt have fabric as fair as a dream,--
The red of my veins, and the white of my love,
And the gold of my joy for the braiding thereof.
And feast upon strawberries, sugar and cream
From a service of silver, with jewels agleam,--
At thy feet will I bide, at thy beck will I rise,
And twinkle my soul in the night of thine eyes!
_Curly Locks! Curly Locks! wilt thou be mine?
Thou shalt not wash the dishes, nor yet feed the swine.--
But sit on a cushion and sew a fine seam,
And feast upon strawberries, sugar and cream._
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Strawberries
There were never strawberries
like the ones we had
that sultry afternoon
sitting on the step
of the open french window
facing each other
your knees held in mine
the blue plates in our laps
the strawberries glistening
in the hot sunlight
we dipped them in sugar
looking at each other
not hurrying the feast
for one to come
the empty plates
laid on the stone together
with the two forks crossed
and I bent towards you
sweet in that air
in my arms
abandoned like a child
from your eager mouth
the taste of strawberries
in my memory
lean back again
let me love you
let the sun beat
on our forgetfulness
one hour of all
the heat intense
and summer lightning
on the Kilpatrick hills
let the storm wash the plates
poem by Edwin Morgan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Racism man wearing white
No stop pushing me becos
of the colour of my cloth
if nothing is done my cloth
will torn
i cann't put on white to please
you
my cloth is n't white
so leave me with my
own colour
if you do n't leave me alone
i will be force to shout
for help and if nobody help
i will be force to fight
and if i fight i will fight
to the last
so stop this racism of white
and black cloth.
poem by Senator alufalism
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Arsenic sticks around and today it's easily found after death if somebody thinks of looking for it, because the problem with arsenic, it isn't looked for in the common tests for drugs.
quote by Michael Baden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Now Is Past
_Now_ is past--the happy _now_
When we together roved
Beneath the wildwood's oak-tree bough
And Nature said we loved.
Winter's blast
The _now_ since then has crept between,
And left us both apart.
Winters that withered all the green
Have froze the beating heart.
Now is past.
_Now_ is past since last we met
Beneath the hazel bough;
Before the evening sun was set
Her shadow stretched below.
Autumn's blast
Has stained and blighted every bough;
Wild strawberries like her lips
Have left the mosses green below,
Her bloom's upon the hips.
Now is past.
_Now_ is past, is changed agen,
The woods and fields are painted new.
Wild strawberries which both gathered then,
None know now where they grew.
The skys oercast.
Wood strawberries faded from wood sides,
Green leaves have all turned yellow;
No Adelaide walks the wood rides,
True love has no bed-fellow.
Now is past.
poem by John Clare
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Eyes Of Green And Gray
Eyes of green and gray
i wish you'd look my way
smile for me today
O eyes of green and gray
Eyes of black and white
of sorrow and delight
i behold every sight
through eyes of black and white
Eyes as hard as stone
so cold and all alone
lost without a home
with eyes as hard as stone
Eyes of green and gray
it's here i want to stay
and never look away
from eyes of green and gray
poem by Sergey Sibikovsky
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Green Eyes
got green eyes
as green as grass
on mama's lawn
got green eyes
over greener pastures
on the other fence
got green eyes
baby over your green eyes
when i stay
and you leave me
when you tell me
it is over
got green eyes
as green as
broccoli & lettuce
for my salad
that i serve
and share with my
newly found lover
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Rim Of Green
Green panties, green roses
green tits, green milk.
Green moon, posies in green.
green eyes, green full lips
green face, cheese, green..
Green around the rim,
green limes can but erupt...?
poem by Is It Poetry
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Moon Over You
on a Monday
morning
i go there
wanting to
see you
expecting that
love is in the air
sea breeze
blue skies
green grass
on the garden
some red roses
white daisies
ripe grapes &
strawberries
i am moon over
you and comes
this absence of a
noonday, till
late night, i am
still moon over
you, this hopeless
loveless romantic
waiting for nothing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Politics
Their hobby is politics
Like
The kind of a mother-in-law
Emblemed by a pedestal-sickle
Or a burning stove
And a father-in-law
Emblemed by holding a crushed rosebud..
Their norms and ideals are green
Like
The kind of the flavouring, favouring mint field
Or the kind of a paddy field
Greenish, fleeceable, reaped seasonally seasoned
And politics is creased black and white
Like a crushed news-paper
And all the good 'in-laws sparsely noted
poem by Indira Renganathan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A moment missed
Remember when I asked you out?
And how you shed a tear.
Remember how I told you.
That I'd stay for all those years.
Remember our first kiss?
Under a moonlit sky.
Remember the fireworks.
That shone in your eyes.
A smeared kiss.
A moment missed.
Remember all the promises?
That we never seemed to keep.
Remember all the times.
I held you when you'd weep.
Remember all the walks we took?
On the beach at midnight.
Remember when we were perfect?
And everything felt right.
A smeared kiss.
A moment missed.
Remember that rose I sent you?
For our schools winter dance.
Remember when we broke up?
And I begged for a second chance.
Remember when you got pregant.
And I stayed right by your side.
Remember how I bought that ring?
And took your hand in mine.
A smeared kiss.
A moment missed.
Remember when I became a dad?
And held my baby girl.
Remember how we fought for names.
And ended up with Pearl.
Remember her first birthday?
And that pretty teddy bear.
Remember her old blankie?
That she carried everywhere.
A smeared kiss.
A moment missed.
Remember how you left me?
With not a word goodbye.
Remember how you took her?
And left me there to die.
Remember all those years?
That you spent far away.
Remember our dying love?
That was ment to always stay.
A smeared kiss.
A moment missed.
Remember the years after?
When you became a whore.
Remember how you took off?
And walked through that same door.
Remember when you got drunk?
And they took our Pearl away.
Remember how I took the fall.
Even though you were too blame.
A smeared kiss.
A moment missed.
Remember how you changed?
And forgot what use to be.
Remember how you hit her?
When our girl had just turned three.
Remember all those moments?
That we thought would last forever.
Remember all our memories?
That we had shared together.
A smeared kiss.
A moment missed.
Remember when you lost your future?
And chose to slice your wrists.
Remember the note you sent me?
Saying please remember this.
Today it's three years later.
And our baby's turning five.
Today she has no mommy.
Because you chose to die.
A smeared kiss.
A moment missed.
poem by Silence Dogood
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My last rites
The solemn funeral
took place in the
humid desert
trail of mourners
walked on the
thirsty hot sand.
The fragrance of
those miserable flowers
ending the path
blooming to survive
in that gloomy evening
unweighing all burdens.
Wrapped in melancholic
green shiny cloth
grounded with
comfort case
dampened soil in pit
to be laid to feast.
poem by Mubeen Sadhika
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Dot On White Sheet!
Green leaves of spring are not there;
Colourful flowers of all seasons are gone;
Only white snow covers all in winter!
Winter snow thick or thin is white sheet
That covers all colourful things long!
Scrubbing snow on the road is a daily exercise
To clear route for all vehicles to go smooth;
All covered with fur cloth move in the street;
This white snow is like a white sheet of paper;
All the movements on it are the dots of scribble!
Writers are hungry of white paper to write on;
Poets are fond of writing poems on white sheet;
And the matters on white paper are men on snow;
But nobody likes winter as all are for colourful life!
poem by Ramesh T A
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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White on Green
White on green
Or is it green on white?
Surprise mosaic of half melted snow
Offers unexpected beauty
Eat your heart out
You abstract artists.
Bare branches weave
Delicate lace
Over aqua skies I walk
To where my dead children lie
And remember their names
That only I ever breathed
See how green shoots grow
Beneath the snow
Is it green on white
Or white on green?
Eat your heart out
You abstract artists
Random nature
Says it all so much better.
poem by Anita Wisniewska
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Royal place
Painted fresh
Red and white
With even little squares
To Give a rich look
The look of royality
A table cloth
Laid out for a Queen.
Evenly placed on the ground..
A royal place
A splended place
For my knee to rest
Am I worthy
Comming before the Queen.
There on the cloth
Its settings
The plate
The cup
The numbers were in two
Off to the side a deep green
Bottle of wine
My Invitation
But my knee is resting on the ground
Her hand extended toward me
Beckoning my kiss
My lips caress her wrist.
Her invitation
Is to dine with royality.
poem by Howard Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Serene
A sea of cloth on an early morning
A wooden boat afloat
The cloth of blue and gray clouds
Still touching
Hands and Lips
A man wearing a straw hat
A woman on green skirt watching
Him sail back,
A child cradled on her arms
Serene in sleep
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Today
This song appears on two albums, and was first released on the an evening with john denver album, and has also been released on the country classics album. some versions of the first album do no
Tain this song.
Today, while the blossoms still cling to the vine
Ill taste your strawberries, Ill drink your sweet wine
A million tomorrows shall all pass away
ere I forget all the joy that is mine, today
Ill be a dandy, and Ill be a rover
Youll know who I am by the songs that I sing
Ill feast at your table, Ill sleep in your clover
Who cares what the morrow shall bring
Today, while the blossoms still cling to the vine
Ill taste your strawberries, Ill drink your sweet wine
A million tomorrows shall all pass away
ere I forget all the joy that is mine, today
I cant be contented with yesterdays glory
I cant live on promises winter to spring
Today is my moment, now is my story
Ill laugh and Ill cry and Ill sing
Today, while the blossoms still cling to the vine
Ill taste your strawberries, Ill drink your sweet wine
A million tomorrows shall all pass away
ere I forget all the joy that is mine, today
Today, while the blossoms still cling to the vine
Ill taste your strawberries, Ill drink your sweet wine
A million tomorrows shall all pass away
ere I forget all the joy that is mine, today
Words and music by randy sparks
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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