Somewhere in this big city
Somewhere in this big city
a man lives alone
in a big old house,
of which the roof
has been rusting for a while.
There’s khaki bush and weeds
in what was once a garden
and his car
is gathering dust in the garage,
when in the early morning
he catches a bus to work.
a Runaway truck
went straight over
his wife and child
and it’s as if,
he never can live past
that event.
At times he buys flowers
before he walks through
rows of graves,
where on his own
he thinks about the
aimlessness of life.
Although he is neatly shaven
and dressed well
when he does his
assignments at work,
he almost never
talks with anyone
and no woman
or anything catches his eye
and he lives within himself
and are scared
to get a life again.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Runaway Child
Runaway Child, don’t have to take it anymore
Runaway Child, just walk out of that door
Runaway Child, no more chances to take
Runaway Child, it’s your choice to make
Runaway Child, aren’t you sick and tired of the pain
Runaway Child, here there’s nothing to gain
Runaway Child, you get treated like dirt
Runaway Child, get away from the hurt
Runaway Child, here it’s no use
Runaway Child, get away from the abuse
Runaway Child, you don’t have 9 lives
Runaway Child, take that step or dive
Runaway Child, why are you still there
Runaway Child, how much pain can you bear
Runaway Child, you don’t have to say goodbye
Runaway Child, say goodbye, when they DIE!
poem by Patrick Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Candid And Vivid
From Rome to Lapaz,
Who then catches a thief and set him free? !
From Los Angeles to Mamprobi,
Who then burns down houses and have never been caught?
From Soeul to Darkuman,
Who then rapes a child and still walks around free?
Life, war, stones, stars;
And like the life from Genesis to Revelation!
But, very candid and vivid.
Knowledge talks and wisdom listens,
But love is the key when you have understanding;
And, i have nothing to hide from you my love.
The darkness comes and it is full of evil!
And like the candid and vivid facts of an affair;
But, who then catches a thief and set him free?
Principles, morals, relationships, love, responsibilities, reliabilities! !
And like the works of the inhabitants of this earth;
But, who then rapes a child and still walks around free?
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oklahoma U. S. A.
All life we work but work is bore,
If lifes for livin whats livin for,
She lives in a house thats near decay,
Built for the industrial revolution,
But in her dreams she is far away,
In oklahoma u.s.a.
With shirley jones and gordon mcrea,
As she buys her paper at the corner shop,
Shes walkin on the surrey with the fringe on top,
Cos in her dreams she is far away,
In oklahoma u.s.a.,
She walks to work but shes still in a daze,
Shes rita hayworth or doris day,
And errol flynns gonna take her away,
To oklahoma u.s.a.,
All life we work but work is a bore,
If lifes for livin then whats livin for.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where There's Smoke, There's Failure
So it goes like this,
Guy meets girl.
Guy buys flowers.
Girl puts them in a vase.
Guy buys a ring.
Girl says yes.
Guy goes to work.
Girl goes to work.
Guy meets girl.
Girl meets guy.
Guy and girl fight about girl and guy.
Guy leaves work for new work and gets an apartment by himself.
Girl moves over seas and doesn't have to work any more because she has a new guy and the old guy has to send her money from his new work.
Guy writes poems.
Guy writes about new girl and old girl and new guy and work and old friends.
Guy wants to stop working and sell poems about the stuff in his life so that he can do other stuff in his life without having to go to real work.
Guy does not yet have high selling collection of poems.
Guy goes to work.
Guy meets girl.
Guy buys flowers.
poem by John W. McEwers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pall-bearer
He has seen the nakedness of the palpable death.
How many times he has walked to the cemetery behind the innocent coffins from a child to the elder.
His tearful eyes lament but tears almost dried.
He always thinks the auspicious day will come and who goes with him?
He lives in his entire life with the cenotaphs of different souls.
Though he is an adolescent nobody loves him.
He never catches a girl's true smile as he may be smell of death?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Early in the morning
Early in the morning
I see her getting warm
in her small blanket,
while we drive to work.
Sometimes I wonder
about what she is thinking
and the cat eyes in the road shines
and I concentrate past the sharp oncoming lights.
Still it’s nice to be together
in early dusky morning
and at times her hand rests
loving on my leg.
The wild bean café’s coffee
is very nice and hot
and she buys a pie which I eat later.
Today goes slowly
and I wonder at what time,
she is going to leave work
and if she will get me in time?
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wild garden
I saw rows of white,
yellow and red lilies bloom,
next to the railway tracts.
Loaded trains rattled past
and that garden,
sprang up by itself between the weeds.
With the early summer rain
rows of blue, white and pink wild flowers
bloomed next to the road that passed nearby.
Some finches nested in the trees
and red, yellow and green birds
flew past the vast garden
of earth that came alive
as far as the eye could see.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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All Day
Well Im hiding my eyes from the morning sun
And I keep on working till the work is all done
But a voice in my head keeps ticking away
As the sweats hosed down from yet another day
Well he works hard
And he lives hard
And he breaks his back without nothing to gain
While the boss man sits around and drinks champagne
All day (you work and you work and you work and)
In life, theres just one transition
All day (you work and you work and you work and)
In life, theres just one decision
Well Im peeling the blisters off my working hand
Is that what it takes to make you understand?
That its something you read, not something you meant
To be slaving away without a shred of integrity
He worked hard
And he lived hard
And he broke his back without nothing to say
While the man in control was just laughing away
All day (you work and you work and you work and)
In life, theres just one transition
All day (you work and you work and you work and)
In life, theres just one decision
Was it something you read?
Was it something you meant?
Was it something you said?
Or was it heaven sent?
All day (you work and you work and you work and)
In life, theres just one transition
All day (you work and you work and you work and)
In life, theres just one decision
song performed by by Ministry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Type Of Man
What kind of a man goes after a married woman
What kind of a man does it and proclaims his faith in GOD
What kind of man does the things that he shouldn't
Does that type of man think that he will never be caught.
What type of man leaves his children and his wife
What type of man puts his needs and his wants first
What type of a man is scared to fight his own fights
Does that type of man cares whose soul that he hurts.
What type of man talks behind other peoples backs
What type of man lies to make himself look tall in front of others
What type of man is scared to admit the guilt that he has done
Does that type of man think that we are his brothers.
What type of man will not work for a living
What type of man wants others to take care of him
What type of man thinks he is something but he's not
Does that type of man thinks that manhood is his friend.
What type of man cannot be used as an example
What type of man does not keep promises that he's made
What type of man should not be father to any child
Does that type of man know the price that a real man has paid.
What type of man thinks but he cannot think
What type of man looks but he truly does not see
What type of man hears but he does not listen
Does that type of man know that he could never be me.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What is life? Let us talk about it
ok, let us talk about life
my cat Kuting has just given birth
to three kittens
she must have loved their fathers
too much
three for i love you
the bitch in the house is pregnant again
we are sad
she is having a relationship with a native
dog
the one that takes trash for breakfast
no definite master
and house
a vagabond
she loves
i think and that is what we too believe
a cat has nine lives
and with her three kittens she gets
an extended twenty-seven lives
wow, that is amazing
cats indeed know how to live a longer time
than us
people who is into
birth controls
life is an early morning tea
a view from the veranda to the sea
a sunrise
a run to take the dip of the salt of the sea
closing your eyes
and see everything that this world is offering
life is a march of the ants
keeping an empire stable
feeding the queen
to ensure a birth of a hundred or more
soldiers
life is what we are here for
who thinks about death tomorrow? Nobody.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Little Man Syndrome
He is though a very short man
To the world he must always prove himself
Tired of woman laughing when he walks by
And hates it when children calls him an elf.
When other man talks he always shouts
When other men walks he has to run
As though his disease his known to himself
As what he has is the little man syndrome.
So he goes out and buys himself a bike
And then buys a pair of high heel boots
He wants people to think he is truly a man
He even sometimes wears a small boys suit.
He has a short temper as he is a short man
Some times he tries to tell others want to do
But he gets ignored which is quite common
To the world his existence he must always prove.
He drinks and smokes to make himself feel tall
Must lie and steal at what other men do own
Always has seconds to what other other men had first
In the world of man he is always alone.
When he walks he must walk on his toes
Sadly he is shorter than all man and all child
And when he's with a woman she hunches her back
So she can help him feel tall every once in a while.
When others get taller he grows not at all
He is the same size as when he was a child
So the very little man has little small hands
And everything or one he touches he will defile.
He thinks he is tough but that is an act
As he cowers to everyone that he will meet
He will run and hide and cant fight his own fight
As a man he isn't he cant stand on his own two feet.
When he take his picture he stands on a chair
While all others will sit as he must always stand
But no matter what he does or what he wears
Everyone know the syndrome of the little man.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Woman's Work
early in the morning she rises
the woman's work is never done
and it's not because she doesn't try
she's fighting a battle with no one on her side
she rises up in the morning
and she works 'til way past dusk
the woman better slow down
or she's gonna come down hard
early in the morning she rises
the woman's work is never done
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hes A Go Getter
Hes a go getter, go getter
When his wife gets off from work, hell go get her
Now Ive got a neighbor that lives down the road a ways
His wife holds down a steady job, he dont turn his hand all day
I know that most of you will know the kind Im talkin about
The kind that rather than have to work, hed rather do without
But hes a go getter, a go getter
When his wife gets off from work, hell go get her
Theres a group of men in the court house yard any time that you go by
Playin checkers and tradin odds and makin jokes about their wives
They wait all week for pay day and they hold the moneys plenty
And the wife thats worked those long hard hours never gets a penny
But hes a go getter, a go getter
When his wife gets off from work, hell go get her
Yes hes a go getter, a go getter
When his wife gets off from work, hell go get her
Hes a go getter, a go getter
When his wife gets off from work, hell go get her
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Payment
A tortuous path of neurons arced a call: ‘Awake! ’
I did; in rising, peering, stretching, bearing,
Pained anticipation saw it all:
Foretold, another filthy day.
I drew the drape: diluvian lay the ground
Beneath a lazy leaden cloud – apissing out
The puddles; irksome on the roof –
The drumming drops of bitter glee
Were hounding out a hapless me –
Reinforcing doubt that I am sound.
I left the house
to go to work
to earn a crust
without a perk
then on to bust
another straining vessel.
Trudging on thro’ mud and clay, I pondered:
‘Why a drought of happy times?
Auspicious climes were
Old and fusty books
Atop a dusty shelf
Inside a morgue-of-a-room,
Somewhere in a long-forgotten library
Down a lane without a way.’
I thought again: ‘And still I pay.’
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
O how I
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rose Bush's Life
have you ever seen a rose bush
grow over a period of time
well it gets bigger and
a lot more complected,
as it grows and expands
it starts as a seed
and with the right care and time
it develops into a bush
but with the wrong amount the bush is not heathy
and may die
that’s the same with a baby
we start as a egg in our mothers tummy
with the right amount of care and 9mounts
we sprout into the world
young, healthy and a able body baby
but if we are not taken care of properly then
we may not live
a rose bush sprouts many different roses
during it’s life time
as if they are sections of there life
generations
of there life time
our lives look and act
like a rose bush
also it starts with one seed
you
then we sprout up and
make our own lives
with a family and
that spouts other things off of us
husband, wife, kids, and grand kids
our lives are like a
rose bushes life
for a rose bushes
are our lives
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Rinkhals in Muckleneuk Ridge
We were living in the mansion
in Muckleneuk Ridge
when Heinrich wheeled the
rubbish bin out to the street
to leave it for the collectors,
and the red haired neighbour woman
started to shout at him.
I was just getting out of my Volkswagen Polo
and within a minute I was there
like a avenging angel,
telling her to leave the boy alone
and that the pavement
doesn’t belong to her
and that we have got the right
to put out the rubbish bin
for the rubbish collectors.
She got red with anger in her face,
hissed like a snake trying to spit
and cursed me in English
and I told her to get lost.
That woman was aquatically
quite funny and always dressed
in a track suit,
(as if she had no other
type of clothes)
living in a dilapidated house
like a hermit
with rusting sink plate roof
and weeds standing knee high
in her garden
in that rich man’s neighbourhood.
It was when the dogs
tried to catch a half grown coucal
which the wind had blown
out of its nest
and I jumped down the steps
of some terraces
to rescue the poor thing
and I and that wild bird
got to love each other
and it would start to scream
with excitement as soon
as it heard my car
coming near
that Heinrich trapped a venomous
ring-neck spitting cobra
in our garden
and I wanted to kill it
and you said
that even snakes
have a right to live.
I told you that the snake
was apt to kill somebody
as I was leaving for work
and you took the kids
to let it free in the field,
(or so I was told) ,
but a few days later
that utterly rude woman
was really surprised
and screamed for her life
when a snake hissed at her
spitting in her eyes.
[Rinkhals = ring-neck spitting cobra.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lovingly Do The Work
Work is
Life...
Life is work...
Any work is not
Wrong...
Without work is
Worng...
Human every budy works
Wny way too work...s
Work is making you...
Work is given good life
For you...and your's...
So...
Understand too work
Earn money too work...
Live life with your work...
Love too work...
Learn to do the work...
Lovingely do the work...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beneath a cherry tree
Beneath a cherry tree
a German officer, a general of the third Reich,
dressed immaculately in black
with a skull and crossbones emblem
on his official cap,
somewhat like a pirate sign,
but more obscure
boots shining reflecting the garden
catches a young Jewish boy
(who was forced to labour in that garden)
eating some of the sweet red fruit.
His right boot shoots out
and catches the boy
just under the chin
and he kicks the slender boy down
tramples him into the ground
and keeps on kicking
while the child
tries to cover himself
against the blows
somewhat like a scared dog.
A hand covered in a black leather glove
grabs more red cherries from the tree
smashes them into the boy’s face
press them with pits and all
along with some broken teeth
down the boy’s throat,
before that devil in black
gets hold of the boy’s head
and drags him
into the tool shed
where with one hammer blow after another
he kills him
and when he lies without any life,
without any movement,
brushes off his gloves, his coat
calls to a SS-guard
with lightning flashes on his arm
to dispose of the body
and returns to his study
where the death
of thousands more Jews,
more children, women and men
awaits his signature.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Landing
Thick black soul
Moving slow, moving close to you
This life I don't know
It seems kinda sick to me
Hold each other tight
Walking through to my destiny
This glitter in my eye
Catches light catches sympathy
This glitter in my eye
Catches light catches sympathy
Your lips are moving but I can't hear what you say
Stars are falling but you still feel the same way
This shield
What is real
Is believing
(Ha-ha-ha-aaa)
[REPEAT]
song performed by by Moby
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Enjoy Luxury Gambling Is Fun?
the rich girl and her mother
often go to the casino to play
to enjoy luxury gambling is fun
chance to unwind enjoy together
the rich girl often wonders
if there is a gazillionaire
she could marry to make
this her oh so hard life easier
the poor girl gets up early
to work hard in rice fields
before sun rise her work starts
to work under hot sun all day
the poor girl thinks of city
where life is so much easier
to work as a maid when older
in a cool house good food pay
poem by Terence George Craddock
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