Sylvia Plath
Sylvia Plath..
I cannot read one word of her,
who would put a price
on the rights
of soul searching, now?
Wow:
Copyrights! ! ..
Her bones must be red with anger..
Please business people!
You are taking the food
from the table
of the many,
let them the least with a chance,
a small one, any,
to feed their
souls with a few crumbs of poems..
poem by Elena Sandu
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Related quotes
Everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it and the imagination to improvise.
Sylvia Plath in The Journals of Sylvia Plath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Slaves of Food
Thick red blood veins bath in anger
The stomach grumbles in idiotic anger
A taste of food and out springs laughter
Triumphant moods commence again after
And it can be argued
We are all but slaves of food
Digesting away between interludes
Without food the mind is wholly screwed
We consume and wear different costumes
With food for thought and food of all sorts
We eat for the heart until it sets us apart
While the crumbs are often sought by rats
The pleasure one feels after a congested meal
That inner gratifying satisfaction is cheap but real
Toast, eggs and beans and it is work and work
Fruits, wine and cakes and it is talk and talk
Coffee or tea and eyes are conspicuously awake
A turkey roast and sleep is suspiciously at stake
We are all but slaves of food
I conclude with fluctuating moods
There is food for romance
There is food for the fools
Enjoy, eat fast, food never lasts, rewind and preview
Hungry mouths elsewhere regularly wait for its rescue
Copyright 2009 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Sylvia Plath
I wish I had a sylvia plath
Busted tooth and a smile
And cigarette ashes in her drink
The kind that goes out and then sleeps for a week
The kind that goes out on her
To give me a reason, for well, I dunno
And maybe shed take me to france
Or maybe to spain and shed ask me to dance
In a mansion on the top of a hill
Shed ash on the carpets
And slip me a pill
Then shed get pretty loaded on gin
And maybe shed give me a bath
How I wish I had a sylvia plath
And she and I would sleep on a boat
And swim in the sea without clothes
With rain falling fast on the sea
While she was swimming away, shed be winking at me
Telling me it would all be okay
Out on the horizon and fading away
And Id swim to the boat and Id laugh
I gotta get me a sylvia plath
And maybe shed take me to france
Or maybe to spain and shed ask me to dance
In a mansion on the top of a hill
Shed ash on the carpets
And slip me a pill
Then shed get pretty loaded on gin
And maybe shed give me a bath
How I wish I had a sylvia plath
I wish I had a sylvia plath
song performed by by Ryan Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poems About.
There are poems that you will never see
Marked in a folder titled 'privacy'
Poems of hate and anger and personal pain
Poems about greed and hunger and personal gain
Poems about people I would love to see dead
Poems about women I met
Poems about relationships that have gone bad
Poems about issues with mom and dad
Poems about me, the person no one knows
Poems about places where only my soul goes
Poems I wish I could place in the clouds for all to read
Poems about lust, selfishness and greed
Poems I know will hurt those I hate
Poems I write by complete mistake
Poems I have hidden in my heart and my head
Poems about things that are better left unsaid
Poems I want to share and poems I want to retract
Poems of shame and how others might act
They stay in my psyche, they are a part of me
These poems I write, but you will never see.
poem by Mahfooz Ali
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Anger does not pay
Anger is red danger
But a familiar stranger
So It came as no surprise
At the times I have paid the price
More than the usual thrice
Before becoming very wise
The judge said
I should have been put in a cage
If one considers all the damage
I brought on with my rage
I knew
My anger was unreasonable
My anger was invincible
My anger was uncontrollable
But still very reversible
You see
In anger I always surrender
To the pressure I am under
In anger, I ungraciously lose
To the one I righteously accuse
In anger, I immoderately protest
Instead of letting things rest
Then trying responsibly to digest
And deal with issues best
So I say, So I say
Anger does not pay
Anger does not stay
Delay it from display
In time it will only go away
Now I know that
Anger does not pay
Anger does not stay
Calmness you should play
Before you begin to fall astray
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
www.sylviachidi.com
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Poet's Soul
I read the poet's souls in the poems,
I read the poet's inner world.
Pulse beats louder, then duller,
And all my doubts are just hurled.
The sadness sometimes a kiss cover,
Then suddenly curled at my feet,
Giving the whole body a heat,
The warmth of a true lover.
Fever passes through nervous points,
Chill runs through the whole body,
I read the poet's souls in the poems,
And feel that the soul is haughty.
I delve into the words and their nature,
Understanding destroys the walls,
Now I would like to capture
The main idea and the poems calls.
I read and my joy is in full swing,
My own soul gets the wings,
I am ready to fly with the singer,
Like me the poet is a swinger.
I am with that one who dared
To plunge into the holy spring naked,
I am with that one who shared
An inspiration and was not faked.
I read the poet's souls in the poems.
But do I read the souls of reality or dream?
Let's deem that no one here and there lies,
And the law of poetry is always precise.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
The 4th of April,2012
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Widow. The word consumes itself.
quote by Sylvia Plath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Takin' Care Of Business
You get up every morning
From your alarm clock's warning
Take the 8:15 into the city
There's a whistle up above
And people pushin', people shovin'
And the girls who try to look pretty
And if your train's on time
You can get to work by nine
And start your slaving job to get your pay
If you ever get annoyed
Look at me I'm self-employed
I love to work at nothing all day
And I'll be...
Taking care of business every day
Taking care of business every way
I've been taking care of business, it's all mine
Taking care of business and working overtime
Work out
--- Instrumental ---
If it were easy as fishin'
You could be a musician
If you could make sounds loud or mellow
Get a second-hand guitar
Chances are you'll go far
If you get in with the right bunch of fellows
People see you having fun
Just a-lying in the sun
Tell them that you like it this way
It's the work that we avoid
And we're all self-employed
We love to work at nothing all day
And we be...
Taking care of business every day
Taking care of business every way
I've been taking care of business, it's all mine
Taking care of business and working overtime
--- Instrumental ---
And we be...
Taking care of business every day
Taking care of business every way
I've been taking care of business, it's all mine
Taking care of business and working overtime
--- Instrumentall to fade ---
song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Downhill Battle
My soul abolishes the evil within the heart,
Desks of sailors are like the ships of water;
My names occur from the parents I bestow
On the person who commits indecency.
My soul banishes the wicked and sloped,
Then the downhill battle has commenced.
This anger is resented by the majority,
Underneath the seas of hatred there is a price.
My souls are numbered due to the books
Riding and being ridden, like a read business.
This soul in my heart conquers the world,
Its country is beyond the man’s heart,
And the women and children are numbered.
poem by Naveed Akram
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My Poems Come Out of the Soul Of What I Am
MY POEMS COME OUT OF THE SOUL OF WHAT I AM
My poems come out of the soul of what I am
They are small
And they do not remain forever
They return and repeat themselves
Before leaving me alone.
My poems come out of the soul of what I am
But they do not really know me
Somewhere in another universe
They are read and reread endlessly
As if their meaning is more real
Than I can ever know it to be.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Fog on the Hillocks Melts Away
The fog on the hillocks melts away,
it’s another bright sunny day
and people do not really know me
the beings beyond the stars
look down at me and cannot properly
make up their minds
if I am living like a saint, or sinner
or is a little bit of both,
the smell of smoke from the train,
and the nearby black township
is on the air
but the light wind blows it away
and the flowers in the garden
all smile up at me, as if delighted
to have my company
and nothing really threatens,
the heaven is blue above me
and at night the stars sparkle invitingly
are drawing me to a world,
a place in the beyond
where my dear father waits
and everything is clear, lovely and sunny
without pain or regret
and nothing bad besets anyone.
(In Answer to Sylvia Plath/Reference: Sheep in Fog by Sylvia Plath.)
poem by Gert Strydom
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I read a book
I read a book
Not to enhance my looks
I read a book
Maybe to avoid being a crook
I read a book
Not just to learn how to cook
I read a book
To ascertain how to defend my rights
Not just to acquire knowledge
Reading a book I pledge,
Is one of the roads to the light
I read a book
To understand how a kings territory
Is defended with pieces such as the rook
I read a book
So there will be no questions asked
When I count correctly what you took
I read a book
So that I play not ignorant
Now on life I’ve a different outlook
I read a book
So if I come up with all the right answers
I will know for sure it is not merely a fluke
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Do not read my poems…. [for YOU ]
Do not read my poems…
After I am dead
As a lament, a wail
An elegy, a requiem
Do not read my poems…
After I am gone
When no more I can
Hear your velvet voice.
Do not read my poems…
Alone without me
To comment along
And read with you
But, do read my poems
When I beside you lie
With my head resting
On your supporting arm
Listening to you read
In whisper, in kisses
In silence, in love
In sleep, in dream
Watching you feel
Every word I wrote
I’ll close my eyes - Love
Brush aside my hair
With your breathe
Which half veils my face
Sleepless fevered I wrote
Read me my poems
Now sing me a lullaby
Rock me to sleep
On your broad chest
Diving into your eyes
A thousand times
I am refreshed
By your smile
I’ll write on you a poem
Traced by my fingertips
To be etched in your heart
And burnt into your soul!
So, do not read my poems…
poem by Angelina Pandian
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Nobodys Business
I went out in the darkness
Just searching for someplace to be
Wasnt looking for trouble
I guess it was looking for me
And I knew I was wasting my time
But it was nobodys business
Nobodys business but mine
I was taking some comfort
I needed a break from the rain
I guess I was mistaken
And someone remembered my name
But I knew I was doin just fine
And it was nobodys business
Nobodys business but mine
Well I guess for some
Revenge is sweet
Though it be once removed
I hope you feel better
I dont know what you proved
Well, yonder comes the emperor, boys
He sure looks fine in blue
I hope you feel better, babe
I know youre scared too
Well it sure makes you wonder
The things that some people will say
They can see black and white but they
Dont seem to notice the gray
What a price for a victimless crime
When it was nobodys business
Nobodys business but mine
Yeah, it was nobodys business
Nobodys business but mine
song performed by by Don Henley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Tables and Chairs
The tables resent the chairs, apt to sit
Like the people who sit, forming froth
And food, tables so clean, a likeable soot.
This may disguise chemistry, even biology,
Between the anger and hatred is beauty,
Fully we admire them who talk of it.
The table is sweeter with food than the chair with people,
And who does not eat on this furniture of the soul,
This future of living, kindness is adored,
For we are abhorrent in conversation, in laughter.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Dont You Think It's Time?
children have rights,
women have rights.
lovers have rights.
people of all religions,
and even atheists have rights.
people of all colors,
speaking every language have rights.
trees and rivers have rights.
cats and dogs have rights.
cattle have rights,
homeless people have rights.
prisoners have rights.
democrats and republicans have rights,
even socialists have rights.
the jobless have rights,
old people have rights...
and the hungry have
the right to be fed!
damnit! dont you think it's time?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Sylvia
(words & music by g. stephens - l. reed)
These long lonely evenings
Here I am on the phone
Wondering if she will call
She said she would write me
cause she knows Im alone
But I hear nothing at all
Im waiting for a word of love from sylvia.
You think shed never heard of love my sylvia,
But when Im with her lord, I forgive her
cause shes more than the whole world to me
Theres nothing like a word of love from sylvia
The only one Im thinking of is sylvia
Feeling so sad now, Ill be so glad now
If I just had my sylvia with me
That old weepin willow
Seems to whisper her name
Why did she go away
The tears on my pillow
Theyre not hard to explain
Theres nothing else I can say
Im waiting for a word of love from sylvia.
You think shed never heard of love my sylvia,
But when Im with her lord, I forgive her
cause shes more than the whole world to me
Theres nothing in the world like sylvia
The only one Im thinking of is sylvia
Feeling so sad now, Ill be so glad now
If I just had my sylvia with me
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To have a feel of my food
To have the feel of my food not just the taste of it in my tongue
I use my bare hands, the rice I fold between my palms the fish
I touch with my fingers, and then my mouth opens to swallow and savor
Just like you tonight, I feel you with my bare hands I taste you
With my tongue because you are the food of my soul and my soul
Feeds on you as you also feed on mine
We are bare all over, not just our bare hands
We touch we feel we lick we breath with our noses
On our skins, we feed on our flesh, we go deeper
Into our souls, our eyes feast on the food we lay in front of us
The lights of our eyes open in our room the festivity to a beginning
We feed on ourselves we are hungry & greedy & we are never full
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Lost Freedom
For those who don’t already know
This poem is not going to glow and flow
It lost its freedom years ago
Guess who dictates how the current theme goes
Arise, Arise!
Freedom is nice
Yet freedom itself comes with a price
Hence the never-ending sacrifice
After years of people giving up lives
Assisting us with out struggle to survive
To end slavery, to gain independence & to acquire autonomy
We have become the latest kind of slave, a slave of technology
Our phone conversations are listened to
Yet there is no one you can sue
Technology is watching us from cameras & satellites
Taking away our precious privacy rights
Freedom of speech, to those I outreach
Does not exist, I teach
Say the wrong things and you will be impeached
So whilst we have taken
One step forward,
We have also taken
Two steps backwards
We the slaves of new technology
Why do we embrace this new ideology?
Everything about you
Can be accessed from a central database
Is this just the beginning of a new phase?
So Arise, Arise!
Freedom is nice
But the price of freedom itself
equals the withdrawal of freedom for some
Hence the never-ending sacrifice
2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Crumbs From Your Table
From the brightest star
Comes the blackest hole
You had so much to offer
Why did you offer your soul?
I was there for you baby
When you needed my help
Would you deny for others
What you demand for yourself?
Cool down mama, cool off
Cool down mama, cool off
You speak of signs and wonders
I need something other
I would believe if I was able
But I'm waiting on the crumbs from your table
You were pretty as a picture
It was all there to see
Then your face caught up with your psychology
With a mouth full of teeth
You ate all your friends
And you broke every heart thinking every heart mends
You speak of signs and wonders
But I need something other
I would believe if I was able
But I'm waiting on the crumbs from your table
Where you live should not decide
Whether you live or whether you die
Three to a bed
Sister Ann, she said
Dignity passes by
And you speak of signs and wonders
But I need something other
I would believe if I was able
I'm waiting on the crumbs from your table
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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