Begger's Fart
the begger's fart
a prayer more sacred
than lines well rehearsed
in Sunday morning temples...
the addict's vomit
a poem more relevent
than eight years of pompous degrees
can buy or claim...
the homeless man's cup of coffee
passed and shared,
a theology no master
can pass to his students...
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sunday Morning
Maurice white, sheldon reynolds & allee willis
Intro chorus:
Ooh, sunday morning
You;re gonna find my love shining on you
Oh, Im waiting
And my heart is anticipating
Your face
On my pillow
Feel sunshine pouring through the window
Like the grapes on the vine
Love gets sweeter with time
You were made to love
Chorus:
Ooh, sunday morning (Ill see you sunday morning)
Ooh, sunday morning
Its like the best of everything falling on you
Your eyes
Shining on me
Youre the brightest star, that ever could be
Your kiss
Oh, Im so thankful
The love that we share, Im sincerely grateful
The wind blowin in the tree
Singing love songs to me
Singing you were made to love
Chorus:
Ooh, sunday morning (Ill see you sunday morning)
Youre gonna find my love shining on you
Ooh, sunday morning
Its like the best of everything falling on you
Ooh, sunday morning (Ill see you sunday morning)
When we shared sweet love like no other
Ooh, sunday morning
Like a summer day with your lover
Ooh sunday morning (Ill see you sunday morning)
When we shared sweet love like no other
song performed by by Earth Wind And Fire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Faust: Now I have studied philosophy,
medicine and the law,
and unfortunately, theology,
wearily sweating, yet I stand now,
poor fool, no wiser than I was before;
I am called Master, even Doctor,
and for these last ten years have led
my students by the nose - up, down,
crosswise and crooked. Now I see
that we know nothing finally.
line from Faust by Goethe (1808)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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I’m sitting outside smoking a joint
I’m sitting outside smoking a joint, right
It is an early Wednesday morning in
Early September in late
St. Louis, right
The sun is at my back, two degrees
Pass an old silver maple tree
The last of the three mulberry threes
Is growing in the alley
I got coffee, cigarettes
Weed and beer to celebrate
Poetry, right
It was September
Of 1968 that I wrote my first poem.
41 years hence I’m still on point
People say of me that I can not
Keep a job, but here’s proof of my
Fortitude. If I seem proud
Of myself it’s because I am
It is an occasion of celebrating me
A poet to my poetry.
poem by David E. Patton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There Is...
There is...discrimination.
And there is...denial,
On trial.
There is...racists in places.
There is...faces of hate.
And there is...people who fake it,
To celebrate the waste.
And there is...division.
There is...much of it seen.
And there is...violence and crime.
And folks out of minds.
There is...homeless and hungry.
Those jobless who struggle,
And muzzle their pain.
With nothing but strain and those gains down the drain.
AND THERE IS...doubt and confusion.
THERE IS...shared misery.
And if no one has known this...
They don't wish to see.
Because it is there...
As clear as can be!
There is...love everywhere!
And if people don't know that...
They wont and don't care!
There is...fixes to mend this.
And when that time comes...
All grief will be lifted.
Admitted,
And sent...
Drifting away!
Like an addict that's had it...
To send this away.
Like an addict that's had it...
To send this away.
Like an addict that's had it...
With a habit that's bad.
To send this away.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Grey Grey Morning
GREY GREY MORNING
Grey grey morning
Purim again
Where to begin?
A poem is not just any words-
A poem needs a music of its own-
A beauty-
Lines that are memorable.
A poet cannot just be
What one happens to see and feel
At the moment
A poem must have lines which others will remember.
Grey grey morning
Purim again
Another poem about a poem
Is there one line here worth remembering?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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There Is A Poem For Me Somewhere This Morning
THERE IS A POEM FOR ME SOMEWHERE THIS MORNING
There is a poem for me somewhere this morning
I will find it somehow
Perhaps it is in the memory of my father
Whose Yahrtzeit is today
Twenty- two years.
Perhaps it is as it is often
In the morning light
When I first walk outside to Shul
Perhaps it is in the deep need for a poem
For my own justification
Perhaps it is in my daughter’s search
For poems of inspiration
Perhaps it is in many things mixed together
Most of which I have not yet
And may never bring to mind
There is a poem for me somewhere this morning
I am writing it now
It is not beautiful
And not the best
And maybe even not much of a poem
There is a poem for me somewhere this morning
And I am not alone.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Sunday Morning
(reed, cale)
Sunday morning, praise the dawning
Its just a restless feeling by my side
Early dawning, sunday morning
Its just the wasted years so close behind
Watch out, the worlds behind you
Theres always someone around you who will call
Its nothing at all
Sunday morning and Im falling
Ive got a feeling I dont want to know
Early dawning, sunday morning
Its all the streets you crossed, not so long ago
Watch out, the worlds behind you
Theres always someone around you who will call
Its nothing at all
Watch out, the worlds behind you
Theres always someone around you who will call
Its nothing at all
Sunday morning
Sunday morning
Sunday morning
song performed by by Velvet Underground
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunday Morning
Sunday morning silence, curtain stay closed late
No one thinks of kitchens mornings in a filthy state
Dishes cups and beer stains, ashtrays on the floor
Sunday morning papers are left outside the front door
Sunday school and sunday roast
Sunday papers sunday post
Sunday morning sunday rest
Sunday sermon sunday best
(sunday, bloody sunday rest)
Glass of fizzy water helps to start the day
Sit and listen to sunday silence, problems fade away
Sunday cars and drivers break the morning air
Uncollected milk outside reveals theres no one there
Sunday school and sunday roast
Sunday papers sunday post
Sunday morning sunday rest
Sunday sermon sunday best
Sunday school and sunday roast
Sunday papers sunday post
Sunday morning sunday rest
Sunday sermon sunday best
Bathrobes hang in waiting, windows steaming up
Somewhere in the sink downstairs lies an unwashed cup
Tea and toast for breakfast clear away the plates
Wash-up prepare for cooking sunday lunch awaits
Sunday lunch awaits
Sunday lunch awaits
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Youths Are Castrated
Not preparing, he comes to teach.
Not prepared, they come to learn.
Easy questions; poor answers;
Liberal valuation; easy pass;
The body is for money.
The students for degrees.
Students come out as unemployable.
The country thus castrates the youths.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Breakfast Of The Old Farts
the old farts
did meet for breakfast
of coffee and cookies
and fish and rice
and a pomelo and camote chunks
and they all fart
and part and meet again
only to fart some more
this lunchtime.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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No Poem This Morning?
NO POEM THIS MORNING?
No poem this morning?
Despair
And the effort at poetry
As the way of contending with it-
These lines
Like so many lines
Written for myself
With the hope that they might also be of help
to someone else.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Easy
Know it sounds funny
But I just cant stand the pain
Girl Im leaving you tomorrow
Seems to me girl
You know Ive done all I can
You see I begged, stole
And I borrowed
Ooh, thats why Im easy
Im easy like sunday morning
Thats why Im easy
Im easy like sunday morning
Why in the world
Would anyboddy put chains on me?
Ive paid my dues to make it
Everbody wants me to be
What they want me to be
Im not happy when I try to fake it!
No!
Ooh,thats why Im easy
Im easy like sunday morning
Thats why Im easy
Im easy like sunday morning
I wanna be high, so high
I wanna be free to know
The things I do are right
I wanna be free
Just me, babe!
Thats why Im easy
Im easy like sunday morning
Thats why Im easy
Im easy like sunday morning
Because Im easy
Easy like sunday morning
Because Im easy
Easy like sunday morning
song performed by by Lionel Richie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Saturday Night Sunday Morning
I knew you'd come back
We always do
Like thieves
Returning to the scene of the crime
But did they tell you
Everything has changed
Just everything
Oh, everything has changed
Just everything
It's not Saturday Night Sunday Morning
There was something else I meant to say
It's not Saturday Night Sunday Morning
There was so much more I meant to say to you
You know they still like to talk about you
But they don't want anything too real
So most of the conversation revolves around
Things that happened 20 years ago at least
They must have told you
Everything has changed everything
Oh, everything must change everything
It's not Saturday Night Sunday Morning
There was something else I meant to say
It's not Saturday Night Sunday Morning
There was so much more I meant to say to you
It's not Saturday Night Sunday Morning
There was something else I meant to say
It's not Saturday Night Sunday Morning
There was so much more I meant to say to you
oh oh oh oh
oh oh oh oh
oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
oh oh oh oh
oh oh oh oh
oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Poem Is Not Always A Prayer
A poem is not always a prayer
A poem can merely describe.
A prayer cries from the heart.
It calls from the soul.
It does not live by Beauty alone.
A prayer may be a poem
And a poem a prayer.
Not always do they say as one
“Oh God, ‘Where Aren’t You? ’
And ‘Where Are You? ’ ”
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sunday Morning
Sunday morning
Brings the dawn in
Its just a restless feeling
By my side
Early dawning
Sunday morning
Its all the wasted years
So close behind
Watch out the worlds behind you
Theres always someone around you
Who will call
Its nothing at all
Sunday morning
And Im falling
Ive got {a} feeling
I dont want to know
Early dawning
Sunday morning
Its all the streets youve crossed
Not so long ago
Watch out the worlds behind you
Theres always someone around you
Who will call
Its nothing at all
Watch out the worlds behind you
Theres always someone around you
Who will call
Its nothing at all
Sunday morning...
song performed by by Omd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunday morning skies
Sunday morning skies
~
Laying in just after waking
Covers pulled tight, no chance of moving
Looking through open widows
At a clear blue Sunday sky
Smiling through memories
Those thoughts which fill head
Of the night before, the days to come
The way friends are always near
In a perfect innocence their words
Carry away all worries
Becoming distracted by the self
Coffee and toast on the bedside
Slowly going cold
Sleep still lingers in the eye
A soft breeze blows in
Television on in the background
A morning of rest and recollection
While looking at a clear blue sky
The joy of a Sunday morning
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Coffee!
Coffee beans all ground up,
Coffee in my favourite cup,
Coffee black, coffee white,
Coffee dark, coffee light,
Coffee right, to start the day,
Coffee at work, coffee at play,
Coffee midday, coffee at night,
Coffee to sober, coffee to excite,
Coffee weak, coffee strong,
But maybe instead some Lapsang Souchong! ! ! !
TEA! ! ! ! !
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Homeless
Homeless;
- Down by the muddy Mississippi
Skinny as a rail,
Sleeping under the old Eads bridge
Feeling low, dirty, and frail -
Homeless;
- With less than two coins
In both pockets,
Empty eyes
Look through sunken sockets -
Homeless;
- So many people walk right on by
I wonder how many care,
They all keep moving
Even though they stare -
Homeless;
- Lost a job
Lost a home,
Lost a family
Lost all hope -
Homeless;
- Where will I go from here
What should I do,
I'm so thankful when the weather's fair
And the skies are blue -
Homeless;
- Don't know the day nor season
And, yea, it sure gets cold at night,
I've got an old sleeping bag
I'll be alright -
Homeless;
- There's so many of us out here
Without a home,
Even so
I feel so very alone -
Homeless;
- It's a tough situation
Not pretty, just true,
And at any time
It could happen to you -
Homeless;
- Hey buddy...
Could you spare a dime,
And say a prayer for us
... sometime -
- I'm just homeless, not less human...
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Early Sunday Morning
I used to mock my father and his chums
for getting up early on Sunday morning
and drinking coffee at a local spot
but now I’m one of those chumps.
No one cares about my old humiliations
but they go on dragging through my sleep
like a string of empty tin cans rattling
behind an abandoned car.
It’s like this: just when you think
you have forgotten that red-haired girl
who left you stranded in a parking lot
forty years ago, you wake up
early enough to see her disappearing
around the corner of your dream
on someone else’s motorcycle
roaring onto the highway at sunrise.
And so now I’m sitting in a dimly lit
café full of early morning risers
where the windows are covered with soot
and the coffee is warm and bitter.
poem by Edward Hirsch
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Every Morning Has Its Own Poem/ Old Age Fades
EVERY MORNING HAS ITS OWN POEM/ OLD AGE FADES
Every morning has its own poem
Old age fades and goes away in the grey of the early morning day
Every day has its own poem
Every time of life
Hope too is also given to those with few years left
Old age has a poem
I am trying to write it.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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