Sentry
Starry sky.
To restrain the beast
my rifle glows,
to fix the black barrel
to the milky moon.
The cry of the Snowy Owl.
A baby whimpers in the village.
The bullet,
treacherous wolf,
bursts into the sleeping house.
The night smells of lime-tree blossoms.
poem by Ernst Toller
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Key Lime Pie
Ocean breeze, tire swing
Coconut fall if you shake that thing
And my, my, my - my key lime pie
Not too tart, not too sweet
My baby loves to watch me eat
Her key lime pie
Her key lime pie
Tall green tree, yellow bird
Bikini bottom and a tie-dyed shirt
And my, my, my - my key lime pie
Big white sail, red sunset
Lobster tail and don't forget
My, my, my - my key lime pie
A six string, ten shots
Of Cruzan rum, hey, I like it a lot
With my, my, my - my key lime pie
Tortola, a full moon
Shining down on a blue lagoon
And my, my, my - my key lime pie
Not too tart, not too sweet
My baby loves to watch me eat
Her key lime pie
Her key lime pie
We got Ginger and Mary Ann
Cookin' up a real good tan
And my, my, my - my key lime pie
Key lime pie, key lime pie
Key lime pie, my my my
My, my, my key lime pie
Key lime pie, key lime pie
song performed by by Kenny Chesney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Starry Night
That does not keep me from having a terrible need of — shall I say the word — religion. Then I go out at night to paint the stars. — Vincent Van Gogh in a letter to his brother
The town does not exist
except where one black-haired tree slips
up like a drowned woman into the hot sky.
The town is silent. The night boils with eleven stars.
Oh starry night! This is how
I want to die.
It moves. They are all alive.
Even the moon bulges in its orange irons
to push children, like a god, from its eye.
The old unseen serpent swallows up the stars.
Oh starry starry night! This is how
I want to die:
into that rushing beast of the night,
sucked up by that great dragon, to split
from my life with no flag,
no belly,
no cry.
poem by Anne Sexton
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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The Wolf and The Moon
The Wolf and The Moon
By Tolly Rebeka Christian BlackWolf Hawk
The day is past and the Moon now rises from beneath the mountain to greet the stars.
The Moon smiles on the sleeping towns, their drone wound down. However, in the
forest, Life is still flowing full speed. The Owl fly’s his “day” begun, “Who, Halloo
Moon! ” “Hello to you Owl.” The Moon spins on his way. He makes many more
greetings to the animals of the forest. He starts to grow weary, and makes ready to bed
down for the day when the Wolf came to visit and talk as the animals and Moon talk,
“My good friend Wolf! How are you? ” Wolf jumps playfully to and fro, “I am glad
Wolf that it has been good for you! It is almost time for the Sun to come up now, I
have to go home.” The Wolf whimpered and followed the Moon. When the Moon was
almost home he turned to the Wolf and asked, “Why do you follow me? ” the Wolf
jumped and landed in the Moons hands and curled up with a tremendous sigh. “No
Wolf you cannot come with me, not yet, but now that I know you love me we will be
together in spirit, and someday you will be able to come with me to my home to live.”
For years, the Wolf ran with the Moon at night, and then they would part ways at
dawn. One day while the sun was shining brightly the Wolf, now old to earthly eyes,
faded to a wisp of mist from mortal sight, on the night of the New Moon. You could
see, that night, a cloud in his shape running before the Moon, and as the Moon grew
fuller you could see on the face of the Moon a shape like that old Wolf, you could see a
promise kept. The Moon and Wolf were friends, one entity forever.
poem by Tolly Rebeka Christian BlackWolf Hawk
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Done Somebody Wrong
The barrel-house told me, my baby caught that train n gone
The barrel-house told me, my baby caught that train n gone
It was all my fault, I musta did somebody wrong.
Everything that happens, you know I am to blame.
Everything that happens, you know I am to blame.
Im gonna find myself a doctor, perhaps my luck will change.
Ah, my mamma she told me, these days will surely come.
I wouldnt listen to her, had to have my fun.
The barrel-house told me, my baby caught that train n gone.
But its all my fault, I musta done somebody wrong, oh yeah.
The barrel-house told me, my baby caught that train n gone
The barrel-house told me, my baby caught that train n gone
It was all my fault, I musta did somebody wrong. oh play the blues...
song performed by by Allman Brothers Band, music by Elmore James (1960)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where Do You Go?
Where do you go,
When the Moon is full and glows.
As the stars twinkle against clear skies.
Where do you go?
So quickly to vanish from my sight.
I look to the left.
I look to the right.
Where do you go,
When the Moon is full and glows.
And romance is wished...
With your whispers in my ears as we kiss lips.
Where do you go?
So neat from the tree...
Your clothes would hang,
As if something you tease we will do,
Secretly.
And I sit to wonder if...
That wolf I hear howling in the distance,
Knew I waited for you patiently...
In complete nakedness.
Under a tree...
As your clothes hanging from its branches,
Would sway mysteriously...
With the gentle blowing of Summer wind,
Through the rustling leaves.
Each full Moon...
I've noticed how you tease.
Where do you go?
I am...
Freakin' just a little bit.
You freak me out a little bit.
I'm freakin' just a little bit.
I am, I am...
Freakin' just a little bit.
You freak me out a little bit.
I'm freakin' just a little bit.
I am wondering...
Where do you go?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Heavenly night
In the milky night
the diamond moon glistens on
the silver lakes reflects
the power of twinkling stars! !
The smell of jasmine which
maketh the insects sit upon
the breezy wind peeps into my ear
to wakeup at the milky night alone
is wonderful and charm! !
The golden leaves falls from the tree
looks as going in the chilly air
as angels flies in the moon lit night! !
The melodies of trees chirping sounds of air
call me remembering the sound of salangai
worn by woman! !
The night birds sing the songs I am delighted
enjoyed standing in the chilly air beneath the moon lit night! !
Let the heavenly night wake me up
And I am delighted to stand under the moon lit night! ! !
(Salangai woman wear in their legs which gives beautiful sound
10/3/2009 1000 pm)
poem by Swagathnath Rajeswari
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Got The Sun In The Morning
Taking stock of what I have and what I haven't
What do I find?
The things I got will keep me satisfied
Checking up on what I have and what I haven't
What do I find?
A healthy balance on the credit side
Got no diamond
Got no pearl
Still I think I'm a lucky girl
I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night
I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night
Got no mansion
Got no yacht
Still I'm happy with what I got
I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night
I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night
Sunshine
Gives me a lovely day
Moonlight
Gives me the Milky Way
Got no checkbooks
Got no banks
Still I'd like to express my thanks
I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night
I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night
And with the sun in the morning
And the moon in the evening
I'm all right
[2]
Got no mansion
Got no yacht
Still I'm happy with what I got
I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night
I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night
Got no silver
Got no gold
What I got can't be bought or sold
I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night
I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night
Sunshine
Gives me a lovely day
Moonlight
Gives me the Milky Way
Got no checkbooks
Got no banks
Still I'd like to express my thanks
I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night
And with the sun in the morning
And the moon in the evening
I'm all right
[3]
Sunshine
Gives me a lovely day
Moonlight
Gives me the Milky Way
Got no heirlooms
For my kin
Made no will but when I cash in
I leave the sun in the morning and the moon at night
And with the sun in the morning
And the moon in the evening they're all right
song performed by by Irving Berlin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At Night When The World Is Sleeping
at night when the world is sleeping
i have learned to sing inside the chamber of my heart
i have become this nightingale
a black nightingale singing the songs of the full moon
at night i have become this bleeding heart
blood dripping on the floor of the house
at night i beg the moon to listen
to the songs of the black nightingale
i beg the moon
to see the blood from my heart dripping
i beg the floor to understand and for a time being
when sadness and mourning reigns in the house of my body
to keep this bleeding heart
like sands on the floor of its hands.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Mountain Trek
summer is idle, as an African tulip falls
gently on the hillside
the place is quite overlooking an old city
the mountains are brown and empty
at night the moon comes out
a gun bursts sometimes and startles the black birds
on the tree alone beside the long
winding river of Bulawan
the black birds scream calling all
the deep ravines.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fat Dogs Wear Well Fed Collars
the wolf cannot wear your collar
the wolf cannot eat your slave bread
the wolf feels a free wind on free face
the wolf hears all sounds freedom fed
the wolf must hunt for its piece of meat
the wolf hunts mountains where free rivers meet
the wolf will starve to death as lean winter creeps
the wolf paints landscapes scenes as death inward seeps
the wolf licks not the beast man’s hand wolf never weeps
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Your kiss is delicious
Baby I know
Your kiss is delicious
It smells sweet so
I am not suspicious.
Baby I know
Your kiss is delicious
Hoo Hoo Hoo Hook
Your kiss is delicious.
Your eyelashes painted with collyrium
Is something to stare at, they are so awesome!
Your long black hair is like Jamuna River
It smells sweet so I want to be its diver!
Your smile is like new moon of spring
If you love me let’s dance and sing!
poem by Asif Andalib
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Vincent
starry starry night
paint your palette blue and gray
look out on a summer's day
with eyes that know the darkness in my soul
shadows on the hill
sketch the trees and daffodils
catch the breeze and the winter chills
in colors on the snowy linen land
now i understand
what you tried to say to me
and how you suffered you sanity
and how you tried to set them free
they would not listen they did not know how
perhaps they'll listen now
starry starry night
flaming flowers that brightly blaze
swirling clouds in violet haze
reflect in vincent's eyes of china blue
colors changing hue
morning fields of amber grain
weathered faces lined in pain
are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand
now i understand
what you tried to say to me
they did not listen they did not know how
perhaps they'll listen now
starry starry night
song performed by by Vonda Shepard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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More Fun Than A Barrel Of Monkeys
there are multiple questions pertaining to the concept,
'more fun than a barrel of monkeys.'
how big is the barrel?
how many monkeys are we talking about?
how big are the monkeys? Are we talking spider monkeys, chimps, baboons or what?
Are the monkeys old or young and where's the barrel, inside or outside?
If you leave the monkeys in the barrel, you got a problem:
they'll die in their own excrement,
if you lift the lid and let them out,
they might kill you.
a monkey can rip out your eyes, is that fun?
monkeys, leaping and running around the house, can do a lot of damage, is that fun?
monkeys are dirty, so... what exactly do you consider fun?
what's it going to be like trying to get the monkeys back in the barrel?
would that be fun?
what would the neighbors think of you, if you released the monkeys into their yards?
what happens if the police gets involved?
it could mean everything imaginable is more fun than a barrel of these animals.
maybe even more fun than a barrel of human beings.
poem by Richard Jarboe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wintry Midnight Moon
Setting at night,
Through ghostly clouds,
Moving giving comfort,
To all those young 'uns,
Sleeping and dreaming of monsters,
Fairy-tales and sweet dreams.
Moon so silent, gentle
In the skies,
Joyful at being the one,
To watch over all,
Except over the suns territory,
They do swaps...
The brilliance of the white light,
The cheese up in the sky,
So peaceful to sit under,
The starry sky gazing at the moon,
In the night-time dew in the grass,
Have a glass of apple juice.
Take the 'cheers' to the moon,
For the light and beauty,
The loveliness about the moon,
For in this poem nothing bad is said,
The moons brilliance, relaxing the dead...
Through the winter midnight strikes,
Christmas day begins,
The moon shines to all extent,
The clouds wearing sunglasses to see the moon,
Never to block its rays,
In these numbered, wintery midnight days,
Which this wintery midnight moon so much enjoys,
As being the main part of this starry festival,
Keeping the tradition going...
poem by Viraj Bhanshaly
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Starry Eyed Baby
She's my starry eyed baby girl,
She hypnotizes,
mesmerizes,
dramatizes
all her pray,
The tree we used to lay beneath,
kiss teeth stained red
From a sour bottled baby girl
with eyes the size of baby worlds.
As I lay beneath our kissing tree,
I wonder when it all fell apart,
How my baby girl when from starry eyed
Princess to glarring eyed devil girl.
Does she ever wonder what might have been
If we had laid there forever under our
kissing tree, if she hadn't ran
from my love, for fear of heart
break
Can she see now I still love my sour
bottled baby girl
Or have those baby world eyes disappeared
forever with no return......
poem by ZoeLeigh Vaughan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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About Love Untold
there is something beautiful in its being
kept like a secret
it glows like a firefly at night
and its warmth is felt by the coldness
against the dark sky
the tree so indifferent
is sleeping.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Black Barrel of a Gun
You say you're going to shoot me up
Yeah, shoot me up
If I don't do what you want
Yeah, shoot me up
While looking over the black barrel of a gun
You say again do what you want or it's going
To be the gun
Yeah, be the gun
If I don't do what you want
While looking down at the black barrel of a gun
Oh, well it's a good thing I can't hear
Yeah, I can't hear
Cause I'm not giving in to wants
Yeah, I can't hear
While your shoving a black barrel of a gun
Oh, yes and I can't see, no can see
When you give me your ultimatum
Cause I can't see giving in
To someone with a gun
While I look across the black barrel of a gun
So you can get your ass on flee
Because I don't see
You shoot me up, yeah shoot me up
Cause I'm not doing what you want
While I look across the black barrel of your gun
poem by Midnights Voice
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Mariner
he violet scent is sacred
Like dreams of angels bright;
The hawthorn smells of passion
Told in a moonless night.
But the smell is in my nostrils,
Through blossoms red or gold,
Of my own green flower unfading,
A bitter smell and bold.
The lily smells of pardon,
The rose of mirth; but mine
Smells shrewd of death and honour,
And the doom of Adam's line.
The heavy scent of wine-shops
Floats as I pass them by,
But never a cup I quaff from,
And never a house have I.
Till dropped down forty fathoms,
I lie eternally;
And drink from God's own goblet
The green wine of the sea.
poem by G.K. Chesterton from The Wild Knight and Other Poems (1900)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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0121 4 a.m.11 November 1918
A still night; crescent moon; the faintest breeze.
Some wit might say, 'Peaceful, innit, Tommy? '
Two hours before the usual time for attack.
I wonder what they've got up their sleeve for today.
A bit too quiet right now, I'd say
Careful how you breathe or talk
this chilly night, out there in the open trench;
frozen breath will draw the sniper's rifle sight
The sharp nose of some human terrier
passing over the familiar smells -
cordite, rifle oil, linseed for the wooden butt, the stench of death,
yesterday's corpses half submerged -
may detect, just over there, the unmistakeable smell
of fierce French 'Caporal' cigarettes;
there in front, strong German 'Zeppelins';
round here, cheap Woodbines linger in the air
hardly a human difference
worth fighting over.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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O Beauty of Night...
As the golden sun goes to rest,
And the sky drape into black blanket,
Now take your turn
O beauty of Night – Moon.
Variety of moods makes me wonder,
Sometimes you look like circular disc,
At times spongy ball of cotton
O beauty of Night – Moon.
Eyes long to catch the glimpse,
Hands reach to hold you,
Lips hum song for you,
O beauty of Night – Moon.
Play not hide & seek,
Cover not behind the dark cloud
Unveil your beauty for me to gaze
O beauty of Night – Moon.
Cool gentle breeze blowing in silent night
Urge my heart to
Bathe in the white beam
O beauty of Night - Moon.
Reflection of my love I see in you
Fall down from the starry sky
To hold you in my arms
O beauty of Night – Moon.
poem by Geeta Nair
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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