En.Citatepedia^®.ro

In The Year 2150

In the year 2150,
I think that life could be pretty nifty,
Vehicles flashing past, in the blinking of an eye,
To space sites, far up in the sky.
There will be no need for marking spaces,
For on earth there will be no parking places.
People will live in a monochrome suite,
As a house will have become obsolete.

Conveyor belts will carry everyone about,
An easy way to travel, without a doubt.
There will be no fashion, just zip up suits,
And no fancy shoes, just standard boots.
No zany hairdos, hair cropped real short,
That's what regulations will have taught.
All food will be in a capsule form,
And two hours sleep will be the norm.

Automatons, are what the populace will be,
Robots on the go, never ever feeling free.
Their brains and their lives, will be ruled by those
Who are in control, and who they can't oppose.
Dictated to from morning until night,
What a terrible thought, what a dreadful plight.
I am very glad that I know I will not be
Around then, this futuristic sight to see.

These are only my thoughts, which could perhaps come true,
But I have no influence at all on what might ensue.

poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The state within the state

Black cars with flashing blue lights
come screaming down the highway
filling three lanes at a time,
as if any road in the country
belongs to them.

Sometimes I see their occupants
on the street,
hiding behind sunglasses,
with short cropped hair,
dressed in neat suits
with left armpits bulging
from the guns
that they wear.

They invade uninvited
in the early hours of the morning
and burst into dwellings unexpectedly
with drawn guns
as the method of persuasion.

Some people are arrested,
taken away to interrogation
and face charges in court,

others are abducted, cuffed,
transported to a military airfield
to board a foreign aircraft
with stars and stripes on its tail,

to be deported and disappear
from the face of the earth,
without a trace and without a trial
and never to be free again.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

all That Fancy Food

'ALL THAT FANCY FOOD'

After all that fancy food at Christmas in the past,
Turkey stuffing Xmas pud things that do not last
Full brekkies in the morning, snacks again at noon
Eating and drinking all day long until we see the moon
Now really what I fancy now festive time is gone,
Is plain food so English to peg me back to norm
Good old Egg and chips will get me back to form.

Dave Bennett

poem by David Bennett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Can't Sleep

I find myself yawning again and again,
But I can't sleep, which is a real pain.
I lie on my left side, then on my right,
But, for me, there is no sleep in sight.

Next, I turn and lie flat on my back,
But, of any sleep, there is still a lack.
I lie there, looking up at the ceiling:
Pretty drained, is how I am feeling.

I wish my system would just slow down,
But, through my mind, thoughts race round.
Feeling restless, I begin to huff and puff:
I know that, in the morning, I'll feel rough.

As a poet, my mind is still really busy rhyming,
But, when I'm trying to sleep, isn't great timing.
To try and get some sleep, I really endeavour,
But the night seems to go on forever and ever.

I am really willing my mind to take a rest,
But, night time is when my mind thinks best.
Over my sleeping patterns, I have no control:
On me, tomorrow, lack of sleep will take its toll.

As I snuggle myself down, under the covers,
My body wants one thing; my mind, another.
When lying in bed, I just want some peace:
I want all of this rhyming, for once, to cease.

poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Little Charlie Hades

Little Charlie Hades has gone
To dwell with God above,
Where live the little angel throng
In perfect peace and love.
His little spirit now is free,
Free from all earthly pain;
His little form no more can be
In the bright earth again.

His little life was short on earth,
Being but three years old;
His little form so full of mirth,
Now the cold earth enfold.
In her embrace she gently keeps
His form she calls her own,
There sweetly sleeping his last sleep,
Quietly all alone.

His laughing eyes of violet blue,
Are closed in deep repose;
His curly hair of coal black hue,
His little head inclose.
In beauty he was bright and fair,
He was his friends' delight;
They miss his footsteps everywhere,
From morning until night.

That innocent voice full of glee,
On earth is heard no more;
That precious soul from sin is free,
And will be evermore.
His parents mourn for Charlie dear,
Their loving little one;
And oft times they will shed a tear
For their little infant son.

poem by Julia A Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Pretty Boys

Pretty boys - on my tv screen
Teeth so white and hair so clean
Pretty boys - sing and play guitars
Pretty boys get to be big stars
How do you rate my sex appeal from one to ten
Is my image just a bit confusing
Maybe I should get a facelift, start again
Maybe I should trade my pointed shoes in
cause talent dont count
For pretty boys
Those promo people got a lot to answer for
You can take your face and see just where it fits
Be a pretty pawn in someone elses war
Your baby blue eyes - somebody elses wits
Equals success
For pretty boys
I wanna see a human being on my tv set
Want some action for the fat and thin man
Theyre getting closer but they aint got robots yet
Just a hero with a smile like a tin man
No brains and no heart
Just pretty boys

song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

A precise woman

A precise woman, something of a control freak
with hair cropped short, reminds me
of the military
brings order to my life and thoughts
while she arranges everything

putting shining shoes in their place,
panties, pantyhose, brassieres shelved
in neat rows
in a easy accessible way

and even when we make love
her behaviour is predictable
from the removing of her stockings,
where she folds them,
the look in her eyes
and her whimpers and cries
and yet somehow
there is something sweet in the loving,
in the order that she brings.

[Reference: A Precise Woman by Yehuda Amichai.]

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The True Meaning Of Freedom

Many look on what constitutes freedom one might say differently
What seems free to you may not seem free to me
To be ruled by your own people to you as freedom does count
But in the true meaning of freedom that to little amount.

To be ruled by your own people may be seen as quite okay
But if you have to be careful with the words you do say
Then you are not a free person despite about it how you may feel
Your idea of freedom to me does not appeal.

Of love of Country you are one who brag
And your patriotism you carry in your National flag
But despite this your Government you seemingly fear
And they only tell you what you need to hear.

Patriotic songs and ballads many like to sing
And to their admiration of freedom fighters they fervently do cling
And if that's your idea of freedom well that suits me fine
Though your ideas on life are quite different to mine.

poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Past Lives

An angel came to me last night
She saw me in a different light
She showed me things I thoughht I could be
Are not a million miles away
As surely as night follows day
It follows, Im a king not a slave
It is another case of dj vu
It seems to happen everyday
It all comes back to me whatever I do
Theres always been a price to pay
Past lives, past lives
You can never put the ghost to bed
Get the feeling that you live, forever she said
Past lives, past lives
Rub my stomach while I pat my head
Get the feeling in your mind
When youre out of your head
And to the eastern side of the bay
My shadow is sailing away
Treasure possessions and money to burn
I wont be taking these with me
I hear the echos and Ive nowhere to turn
After all Im at sea
Past lives, past lives
We can anchor off the coast she said
The storm will pass and the fog will clear in your head
Past lives, past lives
You can never put the ghost to bed
Get the feeling that you live forever she said
In another world when dreams collide
To the mocking bird of faith we tied
She comes to pass but not to stay
Through the looking glass, she fades away
Welcome to the house of usher
An angel came to me last night
She sold me down the river of life

song performed by by Level 42
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

I refuse to be a clone.

From birth to death it seems to me.
That we are never truly free.
To be what we would like to be.
We are expected to conform
to what’s accepted as the norm.
Dictated by society.

WE go to school where we are taught.
To memorise the things we ought.
But no one spares a single thought.
About what we would like to be.
They do not care apparently.
We can’t escape too firmly caught.

Though some of us a very few.
Rebel and we refuse to do
What the system wants us to.
But most accept the status quo.
Because they aren’t allowed to know.
That they are entitled to pursue.

Their cherished dreams in their own way
and no one has the right to say.
That they cannot but they will pay.
The price for their rebellion
against the states opinion.
But some. still do it anyway.

I’m happy to defy the state
and take control of my own fate.
Because I don’t appreciate
being told I must obey
When I can see a better way
than that dictated by the state.

Sunday,09 January 2011
http: ’’ blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers.

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Be Glad God Is

Be glad that God is truth and light
Through Christ we have His strength to fight
Be glad we have His gift to pray
That still He calls to those astray

Be glad, that God is not like me
Before He came to set me free
Before my life had seen the change
Where now to self I’m often strange

Be glad that God is not like us
Such trivial things we make a fuss
The food we eat the clothes we wear
But not of that we have to share

Be glad that God is not like you
Too short of sight to share His view
For Heaven's Lord is pure divine
Pouring out love like common wine

Be glad that God is not like they
Who sit puffed up, who waste the day
Who know it all and then some-more
Be glad it’s God who keeps the score

Be glad, that God is not like she
To shake or stir she can’t agree
Though God sends forth His Dove as guide
Heaven or hell she can’t decide

Be glad that God is not like him
Who’s cup has evil to the brim
The devil thought Christ Jesus less
So don’t give Darkness your address

Be glad that God is God indeed
He meets in life our every need
Perfect in love forever true
My God I’m glad that You are You.

poem by Michael P. Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

How Easy Has This Been Made To Do?

How easy has it been made,
For anyone to lift...
An accusatory finger to point to someone else,
As a reason for their problems?
How easy has it been made,
To destroy other lives including their own...
By the creating of lies and hiding behind them.

How easy has it been made,
To ruin the quality and standard of life...
Of those who want to live their lives right,
In environments where people have been taught...
Mediocrity is acceptable.
And a public performance of ignorance,
Is just the thing to do since it's attractive too.

How easy has it been made,
To degrade a neighborhood to do it with a doing done?
As others from the outside watch this,
With an open invitation for more to come.
As if everyone has free admission to see fools in a zoo.
How easy has this been made to do?

And who benefits from this?
Not even the ones who make a dollar in profit.
Or the ones who created it,
With beliefs they can drive away...
To an exit that no longer exist.
Or a door to lock to keep them safe.
Those who have that kind of mind will never from it escape.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Where One Is

It was another night
In places where many people shared common abodes
Only in the darkness of the night

Upon us now, is daylight
In places where many more people, share spaces
No one can escape the passing hours, of daylight

Be it round, or flat, the earth
Is shared by millions, in places and in spaces
Because it was designed that way, this beautiful earth

It is perhaps of great significance, the place where on is
So focus on which is needed in that space
To help improve conditions for all, wherever on is
SIGNS OF AUTUMN Signs of Autumn create beautiful scenes
That can be seen by human being
The air emits its aromatic blends
Of delicate fragrance that the environment lends
And that which other nature's blends send

Signs of Autumn are everywhere
Not all on the ground, in colors of brown, or in the air
With creatures picking things bare, some engaging in duels
The cool breeze, now colder, is a reminder to re fuel
Nature's charge is obeyed, and Autumn is on schedule

poem by Lillie B. Crowder
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Under The Influence

Written: paul politi and barry white
Floating on a cloud
Feeling high
It happens every time
Whenever Im with my guy
Tripping on love
And it feels so good
I cant help myself
And I wouldnt if I could
'cause hes got that certain touch
That Im addicted to
Loves really got a hold on me
And theres nothing I can do
Oh im, Im under the influence of love
And I know theres no doubt about it
Im under the influence of love
And I know I cant live without it
Moving over close
Cant get enough
Ive just got to have all of my babys love
And when Im alone
Feeling sad and blue
He gives me a shot of love
And Im as good as new
Helpless as I am
As if I dont care
His tenderness is what I miss
Whenever hes not here
Oh im, Im under the influence of love
And I know theres no doubt about it
Im under the influence of love
And I know I cant live without it
There just aint no one else
Who can bring out the love in me
So many guys have tried
They tried to capture my eye
But hes the only one I see
Oh, Im Im under the influence of love
And I know theres no doubt about it
Im under the influence of love
And I know I cant live without it
(repeat to fade)

song performed by by Kylie Minogue
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

A Marine's poem

T'WAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS,
HE LIVED ALL ALONE,
IN A ONE BEDROOM HOUSE MADE OF
PLASTER AND STONE.

I HAD COME DOWN THE CHIMNEY
WITH PRESENTS TO GIVE,
AND TO SEE JUST WHO
IN THIS HOME DID LIVE.

I LOOKED ALL ABOUT,
A STRANGE SIGHT I DID SEE,
NO TINSEL, NO PRESENTS,
NOT EVEN A TREE.

NO STOCKING BY MANTLE,
JUST BOOTS FILLED WITH SAND,
ON THE WALL HUNG PICTURES
OF FAR DISTANT LANDS.

WITH MEDALS AND BADGES,
AWARDS OF ALL KINDS,
A SOBER THOUGHT
CAME THROUGH MY MIND.

FOR THIS HOUSE WAS DIFFERENT,
IT WAS DARK AND DREARY,
I FOUND THE HOME OF A SOLDIER,
ONCE I COULD SEE CLEARLY.

THE SOLDIER LAY SLEEPING,
SILENT, ALONE,
CURLED UP ON THE FLOOR
IN THIS ONE BEDROOM HOME.

THE FACE WAS SO GENTLE,
THE ROOM IN SUCH DISORDER,
NOT HOW I PICTURED
A UNITED STATES SOLDIER.

WAS THIS THE HERO OF WHOM I'D JUST READ?
CURLED UP ON A PONCHO, THE FLOOR FOR A BED?
I REALIZED THE FAMILIES
THAT I SAW THIS NIGHT,
OWED THEIR LIVES TO THESE SOLDIERS
WHO WERE WILLING TO FIGHT.

SOON ROUND THE WORLD,
THE CHILDREN WOULD PLAY,
AND GROWNUPS WOULD CELEBRATE
A BRIGHT CHRISTMAS DAY.

THEY ALL ENJOYED FREEDOM
EACH MONTH OF THE YEAR,
BECAUSE OF THE SOLDIERS,
LIKE THE ONE LYING HERE.

I COULDN'T HELP WONDER
HOW MANY LAY ALONE,
ON A COLD CHRISTMAS EVE
IN A LAND FAR FROM HOME.

THE VERY THOUGHT
BROUGHT A TEAR TO MY EYE,
I DROPPED TO MY KNEES
AND STARTED TO CRY.

THE SOLDIER AWAKENED
AND I HEARD A ROUGH VOICE,
'SANTA DON'T CRY,
THIS LIFE IS MY CHOICE;

I FIGHT FOR FREEDOM,
I DON'T ASK FOR MORE,
MY LIFE IS MY GOD,
MY COUNTRY, MY CORPS.'

THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER
AND SOON DRIFTED TO SLEEP,
I COULDN'T CONTROL IT,
I CONTINUED TO WEEP.

I KEPT WATCH FOR HOURS,
SO SILENT AND STILL
AND WE BOTH SHIVERED
FROM THE COLD NIGHT'S CHILL.

I DIDN'T WANT TO LEAVE
ON THAT COLD, DARK, NIGHT,
THIS GUARDIAN OF HONOR
SO WILLING TO FIGHT.

THEN THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER,
WITH A VOICE SOFT AND PURE,
WHISPERED, 'CARRY ON SANTA,
IT'S CHRISTMAS DAY, ALL IS SECURE.'

poem by Raine Gillespie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Under The Influence Of Love

walking on a cloud , feeling high
it happens every time,whenever I am with my guy
tripping on love and it feels so good
I cant help myself and I wouldnt if I could
but hes got that certain touch
that Im addicted to
loves really got a hold on me
and theres nothing that I can do
oh I, Im under the influence of love
and I know there aint no doubt about it
oh I, Im under the influence of love
and I know I just cant live without it
need another dose,cant get enough
Ive just got to have all of my babys love
and when Im alone feeling sad and blue
he gives me a shot of love and Im as good as new
helpless as I am and still I dont care
his tenderness is what I miss
whenever hes not here
oh I, Im under the influence of love
and I know there aint no doubt about it
oh I, Im under the influence of love
and I know I just cant live without it
there just aint no one else
who can bring out the love in me
so many guys Ive tried
theyve tried to get to my eyes
but hes the only one I see
oh I, Im under the influence of love
and I know there aint no doubt about it
oh I, Im under the influence of love
and I know I just cant live without it

song performed by by Kylie Minogue
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Military christmas

'Twas The Night Before Christmas,
He Lived All Alone,
In A One Bedroom House
Made Of Plaster And Stone.

I Had Come Down The Chimney
With Presents To Give,
And To See Just Who
In This Home Did Live.

I Looked All About,
A Strange Sight I Did See,
No Tinsel, No Presents,
Not Even A Tree.

No Stocking By Mantle,
Just Boots Filled With Sand,
On The Wall Hung Pictures
Of Far Distant Lands.

With Medals And Badges,
Awards Of All Kinds,
A Sober Thought
Came Through My Mind.

For This House Was Different,
It Was Dark And Dreary,
I Found The Home Of A Soldier,
Once I Could See Clearly.

The Soldier Lay Sleeping,
Silent, Alone,
Curled Up On The Floor
In This One Bedroom Home.

The Face Was So Gentle,
The Room In Such Disorder,
Not How I Pictured
A United States Soldier.

Was This The Hero
Of Whom I'd Just Read?
Curled Up On A Poncho,
The Floor For A Bed?

I Realized The Families
That I Saw This Night,
Owed Their Lives To These Soldiers
Who Were Willing To Fight.

Soon Round The World,
The Children Would Play,
And Grownups Would Celebrate
A Bright Christmas Day.

They All Enjoyed Freedom
Each Month Of The Year,
Because Of The Soldiers,
Like The One Lying Here.

I Couldn't Help Wonder
How Many Lay Alone,
On A Cold Christmas Eve
In A Land Far From Home.

The Very Thought
Brought A Tear To My Eye,
I Dropped To My Knees
And Started To Cry.

The Soldier Awakened
And I Heard A Rough Voice,
'Santa Don't Cry,
This Life Is My Choice;

I Fight For Freedom,
I Don't Ask For More,
My Life Is My God,
My Country, My Corps.'

The Soldier Rolled Over
And Drifted To Sleep,
I Couldn't Control It,
I Continued To Weep.

I Kept Watch For Hours,
So Silent And Still
And We Both Shivered
From The Cold Night's Chill.

I Didn't Want To Leave
On That Cold, Dark, Night,
This Guardian Of Honor
So Willing To Fight.

Then The Soldier Rolled Over,
With A Voice Soft And Pure,
Whispered, 'Carry On Santa,
It's Christmas Day, All Is Secure.'

One Look At My Watch,
And I Knew He Was Right.
'Merry Christmas My Friend,
And To All A Good Night.'

poem by Matthew Cole
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A dream within a dream

as i close my eyes
a blackhole looms
this inner world
a torment it brings
how far does it goes
each night as i sleep
where do i journey to
this dark realm
which for forty-five years
i have travelled each night
never reaching any place
sometimes it throws a dream
a dream where i am
but somebody different from i am
talking like an indian
sometimes it throws a dream
a dream where mom
keeps so quiet
in a never seen house
so much grander
yes, as i live on
i travel each night
in a black hoe
ticking away to a foreign land
year after year
a land which i could not grasp
but accept it with each of my breath
time keeps ticking away
each second, a second
nearer to the day of death
where perhaps i would continue
in this journey in the blackhoe
and perhaps find light in it
in two worlds
i travel, consciously
and subconsciously
in a ship that i control
and being controlled
the master and also the slave
i look into the night sky
and realise that
in this trip i am but
an observer of
a real world and imagined
a film where i partake
each day with no known script
i consider myself the greatest actor in this case
enacting each scene
with a full heart and soul
pain and all
perhaps somewhere out there
someone out there
is enjoying it all
the fact that i control as well as
is controlled by my own life, cells....

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A Soldier's Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone,
in a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone.
I had come down the chimney with presents to give,
and to see just who in this home did live.
I looked all about, a strange sight I did see,
no tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.

No stocking by mantle, just boots filled with sand,
and on the wall pictures of far distant land.
With medals and badges, awards of all kinds,
a sobering thought came to my mind.
For this house was different, so dark and so dreary,
the home of a soldier, now I could see clearly.

The soldier lay sleeping, silent, alone,
curled up on the floor in this one bedroom home.
The face was so gentle, the room in such disorder,
not how I pictured a United States soldier.
Was this the hero of whom I'd just read?
Curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed?

I realized the families that I saw this night,
owed their lives to these soldiers who were willing to fight.
Soon round the world, the children would play,
and grownups would celebrate a bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year,
because of the soldiers, like the one lying here.

I couldn't help wonder how many lay alone,
on a cold Christmas eve in a land far from home.
The very thought brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees and started to cry.
The soldier awakened and I heard a rough voice,
'Santa don't cry, this life is my choice;

I fight for freedom, I don't ask for more,
my life is my God, my country, my corps.'
the soldier rolled over and soon drifted to sleep,
I couldn't control it, I continued to weep.
I kept watch for hours, so silent and still,
and we both shivered from the cold evening's chill.

I didn't want to leave on that cold, dark, night,
this guardian of honor so willing to fight.
Then the soldier rolled over, with a voice soft and pure,
whispered, 'Carry on Santa, it's Christmas day, all is secure.'
One look at my watch, and I knew he was right.
'Merry Christmas my friend, and to all a good night.'

poem by Wade Blade
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Easy Rider

Pop/jones
In the alley where have I grown
Hot night sweats our clothes
My hell is crackin fire
Thats what you inspire
Cruel highway entrance signs
People driving to their lives
Looks like a giant stream
But its just a dream
Easy rider, easy rider
Easy rider, easy rider
Broken people all around
Old guarantees that pull you down
You need a way out, you need a ride
Cause where you are is suicide
Easy rider, easy rider
Easy rider, easy rider
Oh I see the sacred dreams
And if Im no _? _
Ill feel real _? _
Tearing out my hair
I see fertility
In pretty girls I meet
I love my friend
Give me hands _? _
Highway in the sun
We listen to the engines run
I wanna fine myself in you
You wanna find yourself, too
Easy rider, easy rider
Easy rider, easy rider
Easy rider, easy rider
Easy rider, easy rider

song performed by by Iggy Pop
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

New Year

IN the coming year enfolded
Bright and sad hours lie,
Waiting till you reach and live them
As the year rolls by.

In the happy hours and radiant
I would like to be
Somewhere out of sight, forgotten,
Your delight to see.

But when you are tired and saddened,
Vexed with life, dismayed,
I would steal your grief, and lay it
Where my own is laid--

Bleed my heart out in your service
If, set free from pain,
You, through me, found life worth living,
Glad and fair again.

poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!