En.Citatepedia^®.ro

On Fridays he’d open a six-pack of beer

On Fridays he’d open a six-pack of beer,
after coming home
would tear the wrapping from them,
and sit on the porch with his white vest
stretching over his huge chest
and there were distant thoughts in his eyes,
long forgotten memories coming back,
sweat running down his face and cheeks

and the foam of icy Castle Lager was on his lips
and the silence had a funny way
of talking to me,
telling things about heartache, chances lost,
while he was trying to chill out

and the man in vest and shorts
drinking his bear on the porch,
I couldn’t really comprehend
and the blue tattoos on his arms
told their own stories
of a converted hippie, a man converted
to the responsibilities of life,

and he was convinced
that my stories, my poems
would not lead anywhere
and I saw a man
who had lost
the words, the poems
that he once wrote

and he watched the setting sun,
the awakening stars
trying to catch the magic
of the moment.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Coming Home

It's a long and lonely highway.
When you're traveling all alone.
I was on my way to nowhere.
But now i'm coming home.
I'm coming home.
I've been running through the fire.
I've been running for so long.
If i took it any higher.
Baby i would be still be gone.
But now i'm coming home, coming home.i'm coming home.
Coming home, coming home, i'm coming home.
Well my home was really never.
On a far and distant shore.
If i stayed away forever.
I could never miss you more.
And so i'm coming home,coming home.i'm coming home.
Coming home,coming home,i'm coming home.
I think of all these years gone by.
Never even wondered why.
I never touched the ground.
All the time that's come and gone.
All the nights i've been alone.
And now i'm homeward bound.
I heard the thunder over canaan.
And i've heard the angels cry.
And their voices came revealing
"as you live,so will you die."
I'm coming home,coming home,i'm coming home.
I'm coming home,coming home,i'm coming home.
Coming home, coming home, i'm coming home
I'm coming home
I'm coming home, coming home, coming home...

song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Wrote Many New Poems Now Long Forgotten

I WROTE MANY POEMS NOW LONG FORGOTTEN

I wrote many poems now long forgotten
Why do I believe any poem I will write now
Or in the future
Is better than them?

I am a man lost in the world of his own words
And the only way out I know
Is writing more words
Which too are added on
To the unending pile of the forgotten.

Tell me where this poem too will be
When I am in the ground?

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stories About Home

I lived once in the North
And for a while, way in the South
I have some stories... that'll
Tear a man's heart out

These are the one's
I numbered ten... eleven...and twelve...
They moved so fast...
I ended living... in living Hell

But those that I numbered one thru nine...
They let the world see...why... my eyes..
My heart...
Will never again shine

I know It's hard sometimes to live
Where you can't see the sun...
Because of all that... endless rain...
I look to see.. how too... help others
Because I have lived...every kind of pain

So I write the stories...
Some are good
But often... some are very bad
They often leave hearts torn....
Spilling eyes... so sad...
And sometimes... I'll talk about the incredibly bad

But can you see the purpose...of writing
These stories... these poems...
Through the tears.... the weeping... and crying...
It's just my heart....
Trying to find a way...to move back home...

So to anyone whom read these stories. They're what I write.
They're the words of what I feel. They're the stories about wounds,
about that life, my family, about souls that never seem to heal.
They're the words of truth, they help with what I feel. For these stories
are the cause of tears...that just wont end...they're the stories that are
impossibe to bear.
They are the stoires of my family, abuse, of damage
and how love was not spared....
So many stories that'll never disappear
A soul covered with scars
Of sadness that fills a heart
That burns each time those hate words...
And abuse that breaks it apart

Clyde Grant Bryson

poem by Clyde Bryson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Why I write

I used to feel, like a pain is in my heart.
When without saying a word, u depart
Here I m alone, remembering our memories
Had so much left to tell you my life stories.

As an alternative of you I started talking to myself
Not that good idea but still it was little relief
Not for long that idea worked, if It was too much miss of your.
Thought of writing my felling so I took a pen and paper.

Started writing stories n poems about my felling
And things that I had always thought of telling.
I feel I m near to you and with you I m talking
That's why I write. Even if my writings are not good and boring..

poem by Sushanta Rokka
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Seven Nation Army

I'm gonna fight 'em off
A seven nation army couldn't hold me back
They're gonna rip it off
Taking their time right behind my back
And I'm talking to myself at night
Because I can't forget
Back and forth through my mind
Behind a cigarette
And the message coming from my eyes
Says leave it alone
Don't want to hear about it
Every single one's got a story to tell
Everyone knows about it
From the Queen of England to the hounds of hell
And if I catch it coming back my way
I'm gonna serve it to you
And that ain't what you want to hear,
But that's what I'll do
And the feeling coming from my bones
Says find a home
I'm going to Wichita
Far from this opera for evermore
I'm gonna work the straw
Make the sweat drip out of every pore
And I'm bleeding, and I'm bleeding, and I'm bleeding
Right before the lord
All the words are gonna bleed from me
And I will think no more
And the stains coming from my blood
Tell me go back home

song performed by by Flaming Lips
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How I Wish That We Become Friends

i have read your stories
and poems,
and then i wish we can be
friends
much is common between
us, and i want to tell you
that i am always a
part of those poems, and stories,
there is always a link
between us
categorically on the source
of sorrow, the spring of
hope
i have seen your trees
emptying leaves
birds shedding off flumes
i want to take a ride on your
bamboo raft
to go the place that i also
know

but you are a cloud
and i am a pebble
i gaze at you wanting to
hold you
in that moment but then
you are always gone
always leaving
not telling anymore
anyone
where to?

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My companion

I don't know where I'll be,
when who ever buys my book to read.
I was just writing the date on my new
notebook, and these thoughts came to my mind.

Sometimes when I'm going over some
writing I see the date on the paper,
and it brings me memories of
how I felt at the time when I
wrote those poems,

Those notes, they have the flavor
of me. My intimate thoughts my most
saddest and happiest moments of
my existence.

My poems my notes my
stories and my hands, they are one.
One memory in all together.
The way my hands clinch my
writing my every move of prose.

I don't know who
Will want to read the writing coming
from a stranger a none-known poet.
From lonesome I, no one
knows who she is.

I cherish every letter,
word and phrase my hands have writting.
Because all of this has been to me a wonderful
companion of my lonesome life of appetence to feed.

Copyright©ElenaToledo2011

poem by Elenushka Toledo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When Fantasy Is Totally Gone (In Answer To Mandi Engelbrecht)

Many memories still remain with me
of your white house with the wooden windows,
where irises bloom purple in the garden,
with a bottle of St. Anna on the porch,

the fireplace burning cheerfully in winter,
the stars that glitter silver-blue above us,
the branches of the avocado tree slamming
when the wind blows strong up on the mountain,

your deep glance that desires in silence,
the way that you sometimes happily smile
when being together comes to perfection,
when your red lips are soft, hot and hungry,

when we both build a castle brick for brick,
are together in all our future dreams;
where you sing joyfully, paint and write poems,
where every caress is pure and holy,

where there is no goodbye and just hello,
where all the fragile feelings become real,
where morning glories grow exuberant
and we somewhat innocent believe in love

l’Envoi

but this world is full of a own reality,
as a place of cruel hard actuality;
where destiny continually hits on its own,
where I constantly stand totally alone

where dreams flutter away like butterflies,
where morning glories becomes just a weed,
where many thousands of poems come from me,
where in the sounds of silence I bleed.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It Is Me

He sat in his own world
writing down the stories
that came to his mind.
He never watched time,
for him there
was no time.

He wrote stories of love,
of mystery and suspense.
He wrote of everything
that popped into his head.
He was not a lonely person
as his characters kept him company.

He wrote things
for every writing sphere,
but there was one thing
he could not write
which may come as a surprise
to everyone.

He could not write a letter
no matter how hard he tried.
His mind went completely blank
whenever he tried.
Yet he could write
just about everything else.

He could write songs,
he could write stories at will.
He could write poems
on everything,
but writing a letter
was something he could not do.

Now all who read this
might take it as a joke,
but it is very true
every word I have spoke,
and how would I know that.
The answer is simple it is me.

19 April 2008

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Im Coming Back

Funny sometimes how you let
The little things
Get in your way
Funny how you just cant talk
Although sometimes
Youve got so much to say
Silly when you know youve got the thing
That everybody
Needs so bad
Stupid if you let those jealous people
Telling lies
Make you sad
I thought I heard a voice
Telling me go home
No need to run no more
Neednt be alone
I dont care what you do
Im coming back
I can look forward too
Im coming back
Crazy feelings that you get
Sometimes they make you
Want to run away
The provocation that you let
Overcome you
When you ought to stay
I thought I saw her face
In every single crowd
I heard her voice again
Calling me aloud
I dont care what you do
Im coming back
I can look forward too
Im coming back
I thought I never could
Return where I belong
But with her waiting there
I knew I could be strong
I dont care what you do
Im coming back
I can look forward too
Im coming back
I dont care what you do
Im coming back
I can look forward too
Im coming back

song performed by by Human League
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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More Poems To Come

More poems that do rhyme,
talking about people in the big time.
More poems that tell a story,
about happy things, not gory.
More poems to come on Christinasunrise,
where I will make you realize,
things can brighter and bigger if you fantasize.
For we live in our heads all day,
we should think of funny things to say.
That’s why my Pissed Off poems are really funny,
like “Skunkman Is Afraid Of The Easter Bunny”.

poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Re-Write The Memories

Mike:
Man
(oh yeah)
I don't know what I'm gonna say to her Rizz ya know?
(ooh yeah)
I ain't ever been through nuttin' like this
This was my heart man
(listen)
I just gotta step up and just be a man about it
Ralph:
Flashback
Time passed
then nothin's the same
Lost our
Love in
Too many games
And girl I hope that you
Forgot about
The reasons you forgave
But the memories don't seem to go away
No
Chorus:
No I never ever meant to hurt you
No I never meant to make you cry
And I wish I could erase the heartache
And turn back the hands of time
And I'm sorry that you're still reminded
Wish I could just rewrite it
Our short stories last so long
Rewrite the memories
Ronnie:
This crazy
I wish I can do it all again
Johnny:
So much
To talk about
(thats right)
But nothing to say
(nothin to say)
Cuz words are
So empty
When you feel betrayed
(when you feel betrayed)
I cant find a way
To justify
The reason I just lied
(why)
But I did it all to spare you any pain
oh yeah
Chorus:
Cause I never ever meant to hurt you
(never meant to hurt you)
No I never meant to make you cry
(never meant to make you cry)
And I wish I could erase the heartache
(heartache)
And turn back the hands of time
And I'm sorry that you're still reminded
Wish I could just rewrite it
(said Im sorry)
Our short stories last so long
(last so long)
Rewrite the memories
Ronnie:
Baby I know you hurtin
Just pick up the phone
(Get back where we used to be)
Baby just talk to me
Johnny & Ricky:
Oh baby let me hold you and rewind
And I wont make that silly mistake twice
Please hold me cuz I need you in my life
Chorus:
No I never ever meant to hurt you
No I never meant to make you cry
And I wish I could erase the heartache
(Wish I yeah, yeah)
And turn back the hands of time
(turn back the hands of time)
And I'm sorry that you're still reminded
(Im so, Im so sorry that you still reminded)
If could just rewrite it
Our short stories last so long
And I'm sorry that you're still reminded
Wish could just rewrite it
(Never meant to make you cry)
Our short stories last so long
Ralph:
Rewrite the memories
Ricky:
(Rewrite the memories)
Johnny:
(never meant to make you cry)
Ralph:
Get back where we used to be
Ricky:
(back where we used to be)
Johnny:
(I wanna turn back the hands of time)
Ralph:
If I could just rewrite it
I would just rewrite it
If I could just rewrite it
I'd rewrite our memories
Mike (Spoken):
Y'all just dont understand
(sorry)
To have somebody real close to you
(sorry for the pain)
When you lost that trust
You basically lose everything
Ralph:
Ahh suga no, no no no

song performed by by New Edition
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stories

Through every window, we look out
what we see on the other side
holds many stories waiting to unfold.
Stories of great achievements
within someone’s life.
Stories of gathering love
found with in open arms.
Stories of perusing heartaches
where someone has gone away.
Stories a million fold
that surround every living thing.
Stories we are not aware of,
but happen before our eyes.
Stories to share with all
from those who can see them unfold.
The next time you look out a window
try and see what is really there,
the stories that are everywhere.

26 July 2009

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Storyteller Poet

I would like to say I am a storyteller foremost,
my poems are stories, like the Poem about the Ghost.
My 'People' poems are a happy story,
poems are never sad, mean or gory.
'Peeve' poems where written when I was mad,
I couldn’t express it to people who made me sad.
Now 'Pet' poems are always happy, funny or cute,
some make you cry or laugh like a hoot.
Now I want to write like C.S. Elliot one day,
maybe before I’m old and grey.
My initials are C.S. or S.C. Suzae or Sue,
one day poets will copy my storytelling poetry style too.

Written By Suzae Chevalier on January 20,2012
www.suechevalier.com www.melodiememories.com

poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Told Me Then(fav!)

Why couldn't you ave have told me then...
I still remember the first day I saw you.
Your white tee and your bright blue gym shorts.
Our teams played soccer against each other.
You had to play on our team because you were just too great.

We used to Instant Message each other everyday.
Guitars, soccer, just bout every other thing.
We used to talk, we used to share, well we used to be.
Why couldn't you have told me then?

I regret many things I did, that weren't bout you,
But oh how they affected you and me.
There's a long long list of things I regret not telling you then.
Because if we didn't keep our secrets way back when,
I wouldn't have to think,
'Why couldn't you have told me then? '

I miss when you talked to me first.
I remember all those smiles when we used to talk.
I remember when you said 'Should I sing for a special girl? '
I can only imagine if you meant that for me.
Because imagining you and me is all it will ever be.

But if you ever realize that you don't just used to like me,
Aaron, please..you just tell me.
So I won't have to be thinking, wouldn't be wondering anymore,
Why couldn't you have told me then?

But until then, I'll sit back and wait.
Cuz you are worth any wait.
There's no one else on this earth whom I can more relate.
You're my soul mate, for goodness sake, maybe it's fate.
Why couldn't you have told me, you loved me, dreamed of me?
Why didn't you realize I'm falling for you from the highest height?
Why couldn't you have told me back then...
Because things could've been different.

We coulda been together.
We could be the best ever.
Aaron, why couldn't you see my obvious lovestruck face back then?
I hate endings with no beginnings..
But if you ever want to begin, you know I'll always be waiting.

AMH

poem by Khloe Chace
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Coming Home

Ive not been home
For so many years
And I did not regret being gone
Please tell me when did we talk
And when did we show
That we do care for something called love
Oh no, dont you despair now
Im as grown up as can be
Cant you forget everything
And this time listen to me
Im coming home - home
Im coming home - why dont you help me
Im coming home - home
Im coming home - why dont you love me
Its time to remember
What weve done together
I guess it is more than we know
And we should be open
And turn back the wheels
As far as we can go
I know I am your son
And everything else dont seem real
I want you back like never before
I cant take another goodbye
Im coming home - home
Im coming home - please, cant you be there
Im coming home - home
Im coming home - please, dont you leave me
Whats dones done - Im your son
Ive been hurt by your lies
I want peace after all
Thats why I want you to let me come home
Im coming home - home
Im coming home - lets fight together
Im coming home - home
Im coming home - Ive so much to tell you
Home - Im coming home
Im coming home - time heals the scars of the past
Im coming home
Im coming home - to be by your side
Im coming home - Im coming home
Im coming home - Ive so much to tell you
Im coming home - Im coming home,............

song performed by by U. D. O.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A life on the edge of stainless steel

The white burning in the threshold
Spinning a circle for a circus lion cross
Being whispered into his ear
A harlequin tear the edge of his smile and a path
The door became a mastering light
To disappear among the words of opening
Too many for an entrance and only one for a step real
Come into those eyes stretching across the faces
To learn the edges of a sight
Is not too hard provided that you don't even want to
The eyes are those of a parent
Will do the things for you
Give food shelter protection perhaps
Feed you on the mind that speaks of fire

Or you'll be raised a child of chill
Its breath frozen held in a flame
Forever burning in the treetops
Dressed in your hair ties by the lips
Let loose of a necklace around a white neck
Belted around the waist vest cherished
Of a life on the edge of a stainless steel

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Storytelling Poet

I would like to say I am a storyteller foremost,
my poems are stories, like the Poem about the Ghost.
My 'People' poems are a happy story,
poems are never sad, mean or gory.
'Peeve' poems where written when I was mad,
I couldn't express it to people who made me sad.
Now 'Pet' poems are always happy, funny or cute,
some make you cry or laugh like a hoot.
Now I want to write like C.S. Elliot one day,
maybe before I'm old and grey.
My initials are C.S. or S.C. Suzae or Sue,
one day poets will copy my storytelling poetry style too.

Written By Suzae Chevalier on January 20,2012
www.suechevalier.com www.melodiememories.com

poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I could have done other useful things than writing a poem

Sometimes I have regrets writing poems
Love poems, poems about virtue and heroism
Poems that explain myself, that justify
This nothingness
That fill this emptiness,

What are these but signs and metaphors of
My weaknesses,
Symbols of my hopelessness
Ciphers of my uselessness
To life’s dreams, unfulfilled, stars that I have not
Reach or even touch with the words in my lips

I could have danced, and danced so well
Sweat things out shedding sighs and skins on the floors
I could have played a role, acted my way out
Exiting through the doors of author’s characters
And feel this sense of
It was her it was him it was not me

Sometimes I feel
To be a poet is to be dumb and dead
To demand nothing but this honor
This laurel this principle
That I cannot eat that I cannot sell that I cannot
Make use of,
Useless poetry, trashy, nothing but bad breathes
Of my being
Foul and nauseating to my sense of
What I dream what I want to be
To be this great, respected man of power
One that commands rather than take orders
From someone claiming superior feathers

I have long wanted to stop but here I am again
An addict to poetry destined for rehabilitation
In distant cruel word processing centers

Just like you, here I am again, not stopping
My fingers always wanting to type the words
My mind always listening
my heart always mouthing
Words, words, words, these words
This poem

This poem is born and I am its tributary
I am this poet now without a face without a name
I am but a mouth, fingers to my hand
Always not stopping, how can I tell you why?

When I myself, do not really know. I am this poem
With an unknown author, I am this poem just written
Taking shape like a candle lighting,
Flowing from your thoughts
Taking the forms of beings unknown to us
We claim we understand we claim we can live with
You are now lost asking the way
You could have done other things than reading this poem

Precisely this is what I really feel. Do you feel it now?
Yes.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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