Lastness
A black bear sits alone
in the twilight, nodding from side
to side, turning slowly around and around
on himself, scuffing the four-footed
circle into the earth. He sniffs the sweat
in the breeze, he understands
a creature, a death-creature,
watches from the fringe of the trees,
finally he understands
I am no longer here, he himself
from the fringe of the trees watches
a black bear
get up, eat a few flowers, trudge away,
all his fur glistening
in the rain.
And what glistening! Sancho Fergus,
my boychild, had such great shoulders,
when he was born his head
came out, the rest of him stuck. And he opened
his eyes: his head out there all alone
in the room, he squinted with pained,
barely unglued eyes at the ninth-month's
blood splashing beneath him
on the floor. And almost
smiled, I thought, almost forgave it all in advance.
When he came wholly forth
I took him up in my hands and bent
over and smelled
the black, glistening fur
of his head, as empty space
must have bent
over the newborn planet
and smelled the grasslands and the ferns.
poem by Galway Kinnell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Feel Flows
Unfolding enveloping missiles of soul
Recall senses sadly
Mirage like soft blue like lanterns below
To light the way gladly
Whether whistling heavens clouds disappear
Where the wind withers memory
Whether whiteness whisks soft shadows away
Feel flows (white hot glistening shadowy flows)
Feel goes (black hot glistening shadowy flows)
Unbending never ending tablets of time
Record all the yearning
Unfearing all appearing message divine
Eases the burning
Whether willing witness waits at my mind
Whether hope dampens memory
Whether wondrous will stands tall at my side
Feel flows (white hot glistening shadowy flows)
Feel goes (black hot glistening shadowy flows)
Encasing all embracing wreath of repose
Engulfs all the senses
Imposing, unclosing thoughts that compose
Retire the fences
Whether wholly heartened life fades away
Whether harps heal the memory
Whether wholly heartened life fades away
Whether wondrous will stands tall at my side
Whether whiteness whisks soft shadows away
Feel goes (white hot glistening shadowy flows)
Feel flows (black hot glistening shadowy flows)
Feel goes (white hot glistening shadowy flows)
Feelings to grow (white hot glistening shadowy flows)
White hot glistening shadowy flows
White hot glistening shadowy flows
White hot glistening shadowy flows
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Black Rose
A Black Rose,
Glistening in the rain,
A sign, a symbol,
An insignia of loss,
It’s the Flower of Darkness,
Lying in wait on this cold winter night,
It represents the beauty of despair,
The grace of defeat,
The feelings we all find hard to bear,
The millions of people that have all loved and lost,
All behind this flower that holds us aloft,
Within its petals we drown our grief,
With its stem we clutch to what’s left of life,
Within its thorns we spite those who have set us so
And within this dark flower we find our peace,
The power to let go and leave the loved lie,
So with this flower we sign our hearts,
We accept our everlasting love,
And move on,
A Black Rose,
Glistening in the rain,
Ill forever love you,
Ill never lose hope,
But until you come back,
Here’s a Black Rose,
For my love…
- The Black Rose
poem by Andrew Rose
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The River of Rivers in Connecticut
There is a great river this side of Stygia
Before one comes to the first black cataracts
And trees that lack the intelligence of trees.
In that river, far this side of Stygia,
The mere flowing of the water is a gayety,
Flashing and flashing in the sun. On its banks,
No shadow walks. The river is fateful,
Like the last one. But there is no ferryman.
He could not bend against its propelling force.
It is not to be seen beneath the appearances
That tell of it. The steeple at Farmington
Stands glistening and Haddam shines and sways.
It is the third commonness with light and air,
A curriculum, a vigor, a local abstraction . . .
Call it, one more, a river, an unnamed flowing,
Space-filled, reflecting the seasons, the folk-lore
Of each of the senses; call it, again and again,
The river that flows nowhere, like a sea.
poem by Wallace Stevens
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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After Death
IF we must part, this parting is the best:
How would you bear to lay
Your head on some warm pillow far away--
Your head, so used to lying on my breast?
But now your pillow is cold;
Your hands have flowers, and not my hands, to hold;
Upon our bed the worn bride-linen lies.
I have put the death-money upon your eyes,
So that you should not wake up in the night.
I have bound your face with white;
I have washed you, yes, with water and not with tears,--
Those arms wherein I have slept so many years,
Those feet that hastened when they came to me,
And all your body that belonged to me.
I have smoothed your dear dull hair,
And there is nothing left to say for you
And nothing left to fear or pray for you;
And I have got the rest of life to bear:
Thank God it is you, not I, who are lying there.
If I had died
And you had stood beside
This still white bed
Where the white, scented, horrible flowers are spread,--
I know the thing it is,
And I thank God that He has spared you this.
If one must bear it, thank God it was I
Who had to live and bear to see you die,
Who have to live, and bear to see you dead.
You will have nothing of it all to bear:
You will not even know that in your bed
You lie alone. You will not miss my head
Beside you on the pillow: you will rest
So soft in the grave you will not miss my breast.
But I--but I--Your pillow and your place--
And only the darkness laid against my face,
And only my anguish pressed against my side--
Thank God, thank God, that it was you who died!
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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For The Sake of My Child
The prayer tells me to ask for serenity to accept the things I cannot change.
My child watches and waits by my side.
The prayer tells me to ask for courage to change the things I can.
My child watches and waits by my side.
The prayer tells me to ask for wisdom to know the difference.
My child watches and waits by my side.
The actions I need to do for my recovery are just too hard today.
My child watches and waits by my side.
The time I pity myself and doubt if anyone really understands is plenty.
My child watches and waits by my side.
The hands on the clock do not stop for me to catch my breath.
Not even for the sake of my child.
poem by Todd M Davidson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Look Up To See
The little girl bent her head
She lost her mother today
Lost her to the waters of death
Where her warm hugs cannot reach
But she opens her eyes
Looks up to see
Her little sister wipe away her tears.
The little girl bent her head
She has cried so many tears
Non of them were perfect
And she's tired of the screams
But she opens her eyes
Looks up to see
Her friends welcoming her home.
The little girl bent her head
The scars on her arm, a tell-tale sign
Her sadness she locks away
Hidden in colours on canvas
But she opens her eyes
Looks up to see
The ball go through the basket of happiness
The little girl bent her head
She thinks there could've been another way
That she should've never left.
The land of smiling skies
But she opens her eyes
Looks up to see
A hand show her the way
The little girl bent her head
In a dark corner lies her future
Hiding from her heart
Too far for her to touch it,
But she opens her eyes
Looks up to see
A dream walking through light
poem by Mariam de Haan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Raven
Dark bird
Black raven with black wings,
Black eyes as dark as midnight,
Wind flutters his wings,
Shadows turn his head,
And movement catches his stare.
He looks down upon you and watches in dismay,
No black is with in you,
No night in your eyes,
No wings to up lift you,
No shadow to attract you,
And movements pass your gaze.
A raven, A raven, A moonlight silhouette.
Black Suits Comin'
Intro:
(Come Come on)
(Come on Come Come on M-I-B)
(The Black Suits Comin)
(The Black Suits Comin)
I'm Comin... I'm Comin... I'm Comin... I'm Comin
I am the man in black I'm back
Breaking the back of the random attackers
So can the flak
Yo Im dangerous
I've been trained to bust
When a stranger fuss try to endanger us
Praise me y'all
Dont nothing faze me y'all
When they see me their gaze be all crazy y'all
They say I'm a myth
Trust me if somebody riff
Out of the depth of your imagination appears Will Smith
Black suit, the black shades, the black shoes
black tie with the black attitude
New style black Ray-Bans
I'm stunning man
New hotness pitch black six hundred man
Don't you understand?
What you thought I wouldn't come again?
Leave you hanging without bringing you the fun again?
Tangling with the alien scum again
Monumental it's the black suits running in
Chorus 1:
(Nod Ya Head! The Black Suits Comin')
Let me see you (Nod Ya Head! The Black Suits Comin')
Like this, let me see you (Nod Ya Head! The Black Suits Comin')
Like this, let me see you bop your head, nod your head, come on!
(Nod Ya Head! The Black Suits Comin')
Let me see you (Nod Ya Head! The Black Suits Comin')
Like this, let me see you (Nod Ya Head!The Black Suits Comin')
Like this (Nod Ya Head!)
Check it
Yo it's this chick right
Serlena, making me sick right
Earth is worthless to her she be tripping like
Threatening me and my mens
Trying to get the light
Thinking she's superwoman
But black kryptonite finishing whatever you start son
The best looking crime fighter since myself in part one
Better act right and play nice and sing along
'Cause K is back and he hype
What? Bring it on!
Wanna brawl with me? Trying to brawl with me?
Unh Unh What What
Yo... what what... then... lemme... see you just...
Come on... just come on and
Chorus 2:
(Nod Ya Head! The Black Suits Comin')
Like this, let me see you (Nod Ya Head! The Black Suits Comin')
Let me see you (Nod Ya Head! The Black Suits Comin')
Like this, let me see you(Nod Ya Head! M-I-B)
Let me see you (Nod Ya Head! The Black Suits Comin')
Let me see you (Nod Ya Head!)
Come on! Come on! Let me see you (Nod Ya Head! The Black Suits Comin')
Like this, let me see you (Nod Ya Head!)
Check it, Check it
Yo, case closed
Erase my foes
Chased away by the black suits, shades, and clothes
We above the law
Feds can't touch me y'all
Highly ranked black blank I.D. card
So disregard what you think you saw
Put that phone down now
Who you think you calling huh?
One little flash then good night there
Just open your eyes honey look right there
Thank you mission completed
I mean it we won't be defeated
You seen it we did it even with weapons depleted
Galaxy defenders don't act like you don't remember
Taking contenders and proving they only pretenders
Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls
The Men In Black is back to protect the world
When the enemy is near the elite is hear
So have no fear just let me see you
Chorus 3:
(Nod Ya Head! the Black Suits Comin')
Come on! (Nod Ya Head! the Black Suits Comin')
Like this, let me see you (Nod Ya Head! the Black Suits Comin')
Like this, let me see you (Nod Ya Head! M-I-B)
(Nod Ya Head! M-I-B) Woo!
(Nod Ya Head! The Black Suits Comin') Unh!
(Nod Ya Head! M-I-B)
Yo, yo (Nod Ya Head!)
Yo, Yo
If you want to rock just say (Ooo-oh!)
Tell me if you want to rock just say (Ooo-oh!)
If you want to rock just say (Ooo-oh!)
Come on if you want to rock jusy say (Ooo-oh!)
Yo if you want to rock just say (Ooo-oh!)
Tell me if you want to rock just say (Ooo-oh!)
If you want to nod just say (Ooo-oh!)
Tell me if you want to rock just say (Ooo-oh!)
Ha!
song performed by by Will Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fringe
There was something no poet could name for sure
no Shakespeare -
no nobody -
about watching the girl with the tiny hearts
glittered beneath her eyes
and the passionate curl of breath
passing from her lips straight into winter
while standing frozen
as she walked up and asked
if I was cold
if I was okay
if I was frozen
if I was perhaps
some sort of snowman
as she giggled and draped
a red fringe scarf around me
me - just barely a boy
a boy in a new red fringe scarf
a new body of red fringe
lips of red fringe
a new soul and mind of red fringe
with legs wanting
and warm pink toes curled
from wanting
poem by Michael Pacholski
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Black Coffee
Feat. merry clayton
She smelled like flowers, she tastes like toffee
She kissed me slowly, she held me softly
Got too close and she backed up off me
Left me stone cold sober just like black coffee
Just like black coffee
She told me that shed always be thinkin of me
She said she wanted me to know that she really did love me
She said she never put no one else above me
Except her monkey, shes like a junkie
Just like a junkie, just like a junkie
It was april 25th, its up around 80
Found a spot out in the park where the grass is shady
She said her moms from jamaica said her fathers from haiti
Such a pretty lady, shes such a lady
She smelled like flowers, she tastes like toffee
She kissed me slowly, she held me softly
Got too close and she backed up off me
She left me stone cold sober just like black coffee
Just like black coffee, just like black coffee , just like black coffee
song performed by by Everlast
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Strange Fruit
Southern trees bear a strange fruit
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees
Pastoral scene of the gallant south
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth
Scent of magnolia sweet and fresh
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.
Here is a fruit for the crow to pluck
For the rain to wither, for the wind to suck
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop
Here is a strange and bitter crop.
song performed by by Ub40
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eurydice
I
So you have swept me back,
I who could have walked with the live souls
above the earth,
I who could have slept among the live flowers
at last;
so for your arrogance
and your ruthlessness
I am swept back
where dead lichens drip
dead cinders upon moss of ash;
so for your arrogance
I am broken at last,
I who had lived unconscious,
who was almost forgot;
if you had let me wait
I had grown from listlessness
into peace,
if you had let me rest with the dead,
I had forgot you
and the past.
II
Here only flame upon flame
and black among the red sparks,
streaks of black and light
grown colourless;
why did you turn back,
that hell should be reinhabited
of myself thus
swept into nothingness?
why did you glance back?
why did you hesitate for that moment?
why did you bend your face
caught with the flame of the upper earth,
above my face?
what was it that crossed my face
with the light from yours
and your glance?
what was it you saw in my face?
the light of your own face,
the fire of your own presence?
What had my face to offer
but reflex of the earth,
hyacinth colour
caught from the raw fissure in the rock
where the light struck,
and the colour of azure crocuses
and the bright surface of gold crocuses
and of the wind-flower,
swift in its veins as lightning
and as white.
III
Saffron from the fringe of the earth,
wild saffron that has bent
over the sharp edge of earth,
all the flowers that cut through the earth,
all, all the flowers are lost;
everything is lost,
everything is crossed with black,
black upon black
and worse than black,
this colourless light.
IV
Fringe upon fringe
of blue crocuses,
crocuses, walled against blue of themselves,
blue of that upper earth,
blue of the depth upon depth of flowers,
lost;
flowers,
if I could have taken once my breath of them,
enough of them,
more than earth,
even than of the upper earth,
had passed with me
beneath the earth;
if I could have caught up from the earth,
the whole of the flowers of the earth,
if once I could have breathed into myself
the very golden crocuses
and the red,
and the very golden hearts of the first saffron,
the whole of the golden mass,
the whole of the great fragrance,
I could have dared the loss.
V
So for your arrogance
and your ruthlessness
I have lost the earth
and the flowers of the earth,
and the live souls above the earth,
and you who passed across the light
and reached
ruthless;
you who have your own light,
who are to yourself a presence,
who need no presence;
yet for all your arrogance
and your glance,
I tell you this:
such loss is no loss,
such terror, such coils and strands and pitfalls
of blackness,
such terror
is no loss;
hell is no worse than your earth
above the earth,
hell is no worse,
no, nor your flowers
nor your veins of light
nor your presence,
a loss;
my hell is no worse than yours
though you pass among the flowers and speak
with the spirits above earth.
VI
Against the black
I have more fervour
than you in all the splendour of that place,
against the blackness
and the stark grey
I have more light;
and the flowers,
if I should tell you,
you would turn from your own fit paths
toward hell,
turn again and glance back
and I would sink into a place
even more terrible than this.
VII
At least I have the flowers of myself,
and my thoughts, no god
can take that;
I have the fervour of myself for a presence
and my own spirit for light;
and my spirit with its loss
knows this;
though small against the black,
small against the formless rocks,
hell must break before I am lost;
before I am lost,
hell must open like a red rose
for the dead to pass.
poem by Hilda Doolittle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Strange Fruit
Lewis allen
Southern trees bear strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.
Pastoral scene of the gallant south,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.
Here is fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.
song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Black Coffee (feat. Merry Clayton)
She smelled like flowers, she taste like toffee
She kissed me slowly, she held me soflty
Got to close and she back up off me
Left me stone cold sober just like black coffee
Just like black coffee
She told me that she alway be thinkin of me
She said she wanted me to know that she really did love me
She said she'd never put no one above me
Except for monkey, she like a junky
Just like a junky
Just like a junky
Its April 25th its up around 80
Found a spot out in the park where the grass was shady
Said mom from Jamaica, her father Haiti
Such a pretty lady, she such a lady
She smelled like flowers, she taste like toffee
She kissed me slowly, she held me soflty
Got to close and she back up off me
Left me stone cold sober just like black coffee
Just like black coffee (x3
song performed by by Everlast
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Picture Of Papa Bear And Baby Bear
our weakness
is to see a Madonna in
every creature
a mama bear
and a baby bear
the skin of the earth
is cold
and melting
the sun that watches all
these
can manipulate warmth
and then
exploit
the heels of Achilles
are exposed
how many of us
shall die without
noticing it?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Image
The girl in the mirror stared back at me.
Unflinching.
Eyes blood shot.
Cheeks stained with tears and sweat.
Her hands dangled weakly, swollen
and splattered with blood.
Matted hair sprung from her head and the black circles
made her eyes seem all the more sunken. Desperate.
She was small. Shriveled.
All hope sucked from her soul and left a scar
across her gray face like a tree branch
reaching for the sun but anchored by the abandoned
body of a young girl whose heart
had long ago stopped beating.
the fallen soldier of a country whose world
had fought against it. A country of Purity.
And this girl raised a cut and bruised arm
and lifted the mask from her face. Hesitantly.
The scars faded.
They left tiny white lines on my arms and face.
And my eyes cleared;
Hope glistening from them
and making my skin glow.
My hair curled softly.
My hands healed and were cleansed.
A slight pink stain rested on my fingers
My flesh was watered back to life.
And I smiled.
A weak, crooked sort of smile.
My teeth were not in their places
and a few were chipped,
but I loved the sight of that broken grin.
poem by Zoe Guillory
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Smiths, As I Understand Them
There's a box at the hospital in which to deposit
children unlikely to win the Nobel Prize.
They cradled their son past that box,
though he'd been born with a pillow factory
where his heart should have been.
That first night, they took turns
putting ears to his chest, listening to feathers
being sorted, and wondered what kind of birds
lost their lives so the blood of sleep
could dream through his veins.
Doves, she hoped.
Roosters, his father said, surprising himself.
At the school for special children, his best friend,
a girl whose collar bones were the shadows
of bears, kissed him somehow
from the other side of the teeter-totter.
The boy whose eyes were lighthouses said, now
you have to get married.
Twenty years later, when they did, they came back
and made love on that teeter-totter, in the middle,
rocking slightly up and down, though the far ends
never touched the earth.
Their daughter knew none of this
until one day she cried
because she could not tip over or fall down
like the other kids at school.
Her mother, while explaining the conception
of the girl's incomparable balance, braided her hair
into an actual swan, a black swan
who made the girl feel her head
was a pond on a windless day, which is what
she wrote in her diary: My head is a pond
on a windless day.
Leading the diary to write in its diary,
I didn't have the heart to tell her
I felt a breeze, and in that breeze
I smelled a storm, and in that storm
I heard the screaming of trees, for the diary
had been raised to keep its thoughts
to itself, with perfect penmanship,
in the belief that words are bodies
who would admit, if asked, "my experience
of the transcendental has always been
a secondary one," but go on, still,
to do the work we've asked them to,
to hold everything our arms cannot.
The Fog (Story)
The fog moved slowly across the ground
Like a cat on the prowl.
Everything was as quiet as can be
Not even a rustle in the trees.
Out of the mist she walked slowly towards me
Her eyes was the only thing that I could see.
They glowed like lanterns in the night
My heart jumped - my mind took flight.
So many thoughts going thru my head
Am I alive or am I dead?
What is this that I am seeing
Or is my mind playing tricks
And having me believe it.
As she came closer she started to take
An hour glass shape, and all dressed
Up in black pants, blouse, boots
And black cape.
Was I to die? Was this my fate?
Her eyes black as her outfit and hypnotic
As can be, and the softness of her voice
Capturing me.
'You look like you've seen a ghost' she said
I looked at her eyes then bowed my head.
She was the most beautiful woman that
I had ever seen or ever met
But something about her that I couldn't
Figure out yet.
Then the thought came to me ' vampire diary'.
I knew that this was only a movie, and no such
Thing exists. 'but' - what if?
I did not hear her heels as she walked up to me
And her eyes as big as can be, taking full control of me.
I felt my body go limp as I lost my self in her eyes
Then she licked her lips, and I felt I was paralyzed.
She took my face in her hands and kissed me OH SO TENDERLY
And in her arms was where I wanted to be.
Her lips like the taste of wine warming my every being
This was all that I was seeing.
She unbuttoned my shirt and started kissing my chest
Then I felt her climb up to my neck.
Her breath so hot that it sent chills down my spine
To last me till the ends of time.
She kissed me again and her tongue went deep inside
To a point that I wanted to cry,
She pulled away then looked at me
And opened her mouth very wide
AND THEN IT HAPPENED! I woke up!
Ha Ha hope you liked the ending.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Where Am I? I Am In The Middle Of An Idea.
i am in the middle of an idea.
it is like a river always flowing.
at the top are blessings like rain
on a clear bright day, and on the
ground are glistening dews,
like diamonds. On the right side
are trees filled with ripe fruits,
and below them are bushes
filled with yellow flowers. On the
left side of this river, are stones,
and cliffs, and crevices, and
at the height of all these silence,
is the call of the west wind.
There is a confusion somewhere.
But there is also a certainty like
the brightness of the sun. I am torn
between these two choices.
I am in the middle of this idea.
Like a river, i continue flowing.
Like the driftwood, i no longer care.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Strange Fruit
Lewis allen, sonny white
Seven trees
Bearin strange fruit
Blood on the leaves
And blood at the roots
Black bodies
Swinging in the southern breeze
Strange fruit hangin
From the poplar trees
Pastoral scene
Of the gallant south
Them big bulging eyes
And the twisted mouth
Scent of magnolia
Clean and fresh
Then the sudden smell
Of burnin flesh
Here is a fruit
For the crows to pluck
For the rain to gather
For the wind to suck
For the sun to rot
For the leaves to drop
Here is
Strange and bitter crop
As singed by billie holiday
Southern trees bear strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.
Pastoral scene of the gallant south,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.
Here is fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter cry.
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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