In My Bag
In my bag, thirty years
Dispersed
Over depressed tears
And a gloomy tale's slag,
Among these, fickles
Our history,
And a bitter taste trickles,
Deep in my bag;
Our story,
On drafts, lines of poetry,
With smell of burnt success,
And sound, of never mind, kiss
And echoes of something else,
Your broken barrette,
Half of my last cigarette,
Witnessing my dead habit,
With your funny picture,
Pretending to be richer,
Ashen white and black,
With smiles hidden deep
In the dark;
In shades, ready to weep.
Seething with silent passion,
In a bag of an old fashion,
Smothered in tight heaven,
Soothed themselves in haven
In the depth,
Without a breath,
I keep blessing before death.
poem by Jamal Abboud
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Gloomy Sunday
Sunday is gloomy, my hours are slumberless
Dearest, the shadows I live with are numberless
Little white flowers will never awaken you
Not when the black coach of sorrow has taken you
Angels have no thought of ever returning you
Would they be angry if I thought of joining you?
Gloomy sunday
Gloomy is sunday, with shadows I spend it all
My heart and I have decided to end it all
Soon therell be flowers and prayers that are sad, I know
Let them not weep, let them know that Im glad to go
Death is no dream, for in death I am caressing you
With the last breath of my heart Ill be blessing you
Gloomy sunday
Dreaming, I was only dreaming
I wake and I find you asleep in the deep of my heart, deep
Darling, I hope that my dream never haunted you
My heart is telling you how much I wanted you
Gloomy sunday
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gloomy Sunday
Sunday is gloomy,
My hours are slumberless,
Dearest, the shadows I live with are numberless
Little white flowers will never awaken you
Not where the black coach of sorrow has taken you
Angels have no thought of ever returning you
Would they be angry if I thought of joining you
Gloomy sunday
Sunday is gloomy
With shadows I spend it all
My heart and I have decided to end it all
Soon therell be flowers and prayers that are sad,
I know, let them not weep,
Let them know that Im glad to go
Death is no dream,
For in death Im caressing you
With the last breath of my soul Ill be blessing you
Gloomy sunday
Dreaming
I was only dreaming
I wake and I find you
Asleep in the deep of
My heart
Dear
Darling I hope that my dream never haunted you
My heart is telling you how much I wanted you
Gloomy sunday
song performed by by Heather Nova
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Years of Tears
Years of tears for no ears to hear, lonely for years am I
Years of tears for no ears to hear in silence they dropp and die
Years of tears, hidden deep, I cannot weep, nor cry.
Years of tears, for many fears of dying alone, I sigh.
Years of tears which no one hears as many years go by.
Years of tears in the lonely sky, my tears grow wings and fly.
Years of tears, my smile shines, through its little lines, I lie.
Years of tears, my somber peers through my melancholy eye
Tears of tears, Years of Years, in my soul, I tie.
Years of tears for no ears to hear my tears weep goodbye….
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love Echoes
Love echoes
Through the halls of death
To stand alone and catch its breath.
And blaze anew.
Someone's waiting
As the earth's rotating
In another life
To welcome you.
Love echoes
When a heartbeat is stilled.
Will her word that so thrilled
Ring silent bells.
Trapped in this rhyme
Will there still be time
For our lips to touch
As ebb tide swells.
Love echoes
And that mute lonely scream
To starless night
Hails a new moonbeam
Into the light.
Love echoes
Kissing rainbows with bitter tears
Pining through sunsets and fruitless years.
I only ask
That you believe
In our tapestry that love did weave.
We'll fly our dream
With coloured kite.
Escape the theme of black and white.
Our songbird now
Rises and soars.
Love always echoes
From behind closed doors.
poem by Kevin East
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Hidden Poem With In Us
Poetry hinds behind the very tears we shed
It hides in the very pain we feel
It hides deep inside our locked emotions
When you feel confused there a poem hiding with all the answers
Poetry hides in the shadows that follow you around
It hides in the mumbling sound of our depressed voices
it hides in the locked up anger we all have
Poetry hides in the voices in our mind that is put on mute
Poetry hides behind the secrete window in our minds we painted black
But the thing about poetry is that it seems to be playing a game of hide-and-seek
But in reality it just waiting to be unleashed and told
It lies dormant locked up in chains we created our selves
We just got to let it free and let it tell its story
poem by Stephen Merced
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Echoes Breathe Deep {Rondeau Poetic Format}
Echoes breathe deep in Church steeples,
Chilled toll of chimes from Cathedral's,
Chords of Love, The Passion...and Death;
Funeral's hold the deepest breath,
O'er heads of it's grieving people.
Incense stings the eye's like needles,
Smoked heat dances 'round the steeple,
the starched March of Death, agrieving
Echoes breathe deep.
'Side the Church mourners sit, weeping
From the heat of the Cathedral;
August Masses tend to steal breath,
Leave a hollow sense of bereft,
Still there be breath from the steeple;
Echoes breathe deep.
poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gloomy Sunday
Carter / s. lewis / r. seress
Sunday is gloomy,
My hours are slumberless
Dearest the shadows
I live with are numberless
Little white flowers
Will never awaken you
Not where the black coaches
Sorrow has taken you
Angels have no thoughts
Of ever returning you
Wouldnt they be angry
If I thought of joining you?
Gloomy sunday
Gloomy is sunday,
With shadows I spend it all
My heart and i
Have decided to end it all
Soon therell be candles
And prayers that are said I know
But let them not weep
Let them know that Im glad to go
Death is no dream
For in death Im caressin you
With the last breath of my soul
Ill be blessin you
Gloomy sunday
Dreaming, I was only dreaming
I wake and I find you asleep
In the deep of my heart here
Darling I hope
That my dream never haunted you
My heart is tellin you
How much I wanted you
Gloomy sunday
song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why shouldn't poems...
…be hot out of a
news item – even if
it barely ranks as ‘poetry’ -
if it moves a would-be poet
more than many a poem…?
Here’s the story: Dr Jill Bolte Taylor,
who became a neuro-scientist because
her beloved brother was schizophrenic…
had an exceptional opportunity for research
when one morning a golf-ball-sized haemorrhage
in her left brain, gave her a stroke, which
she was able to observe as it happened…
becoming herself schizophrenic in a fashion,
so that one half of her brain said
this consciousness is boundless…
while the other half said, I’m me…
struggling to support one another as
for forty-five minutes, she tried
to find her office identity
in a blur of pixels that were a number
she must dial…
it took her eight observant years
to recover; now she tells the story,
(always herself, always as boundless
as her story):
some of us smiling through our tears, her tears,
her smiles..
maybe I could turn that into
more of a poem… but why?
Between these lines, between
she and me, I and you,
the boundless, too..
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry And I
Scars are poetic
Poetry tells the story
The whole was broken
The break is painful
Pain is sadistic
Sadness is poetic
Poetry is healing
Healing is helpful
Help is all I need
Need is what drives me home
Home is where air breathes
Breath is what makes this girl beat
Beat is what life's done
Done, was me giving up
Up was where I was headed
Up is where I'm headed...I think
Thought is what drills me deep
Deep is where my mind lies
Lies make my conscience sigh
Sighs make my guilt rise
Rise lifts me off the floor
Floors gravitate me
Me is sky-bound high
High is a pseudo haven
Haven is poetic
Poetry is my tunnel's light
Light, my journey's dream
Dream, my breath's pursuit
Pursuit, my happiness search
Search, my hunt for love
Love is poetic
Poetry is me.
poem by Jenim Dibie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry Unlimited
Poetry is looking,
at a flower and,
seeing the beauty
hidden within.
Poetry is bringing
out love, deep in
your heart, telling
your love one how you feel.
Poetry is feeling
a cool breeze
as you lie in an open
field, so deep in thought.
Poetry is seeing
the beauty of soft
fluffy white clouds
as no one else does.
Poetry is hearing
sounds of nature
soaking it all in
to mind and soul.
Poetry is watching and
standing by river's edge
seeing rippling water
flowing to places unknown.
Poetry is gazing at
rolling hills stretching
as far, as the eye
can see.
Poetry is digging
deep into inter feelings
bringing it out
and exposing it.
Poetry is love
Poetry is feelings
Poetry is seeing
Poetry is what you are.
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is in the beginning of new life,
Poetry is in the tears of a child,
Poetry is in the warmth of mother's kiss,
Poetry is in the child's bliss,
Poetry is in the hug of a father,
Poetry is in the love of a dear,
Poetry is in the happiness of affection,
Poetry is in the pain of separation,
Poetry is in someone's loss,
Poetry is in missing someone very close.
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is in the first rain,
Poetry is in the cultivation of first grain,
Poetry is in the first light of dawn,
Poetry is in the drops of dew o the grass of lawn,
Poetry is in the blowing of cool wind,
Poetry is in the beauty of green,
Poetry is in the twinkling star,
Poetry is in the aroma of a flower,
Poetry is in thunder and lightning,
Poetry is in the heat scorching.
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is something more sweeter than sweet,
Poetry is something more closer to heart beat,
Poetry is something more than the most beautiful creation,
Poetry is something more than the depth of an ocean,
Poetry is something more higher than the blue,
Poetry is something more true,
Poetry is something more enjoyable than wine,
Poetry is something more shiner than sunshine,
Poetry is something more pure than air,
Poetry is something which is present everywhere.
Poetry...Poetry...
Poet ry is not just rhyme,
Poetry is but the voice Divine,
Poetry is not just Poetry,
Poetry frames History,
After so many lines,
Poetry still remains undefined.
Poetry...Poetry...
poem by Akash Agrawal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We all must drink the water of life
Neutrality is the balance
between bad and good
life is water...
a balance between good and bad,
we all must drink the water of life!
Depth from depth
..the pain
length from length
..the struggle
mile to mile
.. the frustration
a bitter taste
a rotten smell
a water we must drink
yet a water needed for survival
Height to height
..the pleasure
reach to reach
..the satisfaction
bredth to bredth
..the joy
a sweet taste
a fresh smell
a water we must drink
a water oh so sweet for survival
Waters of success
sweet to the mouth
a reward to the soul
the waters of life
a journey of thirst
a well of plenty
Waters of failure
bitter to the mouth
a teacher to the listening soul
the river of death
the most bitter water of all
yet a water we must all drink
... to satisfaction
The river runs black and rough
to the uncertain end
but certain finish
where taste is empty
smell is neutral
and realisation is simple,
where all find and embrace,
a moment of peace.
poem by Allen Steble
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Incantation
A white well
In a black cave;
A bright shell
In a dark wave.
A white rose
Black brambles hood;
Smooth bright snows
In a dark wood.
A flung white glove
In a dark fight;
A white dove
On a wild black night.
A white door
In a dark lane;
A bright core
To bitter black pain.
A white hand
Waved from dark walls;
In a burnt black land
Bright waterfalls.
A bright spark
Where black ashes are;
In the smothering dark
One white star.
poem by Elinor Morton Wylie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Woodman
Ax and partly because of the aristocratic nose geothermal
History's history all the dust
Saturday deep sleep suddenly lost air.
Tree pond water touches remain apathetic, wretched memories bind
Music sounds bitter defeat us
I have the pulse of the overhang kankabati cloud, long tears
We were sleeping in the yard at night
It's the sound of wood broken away in the dark.
Enter a name inscribed on the chest and tree feller
Who has cheated death at the platter of rice.
poem by Shafi Sumodro
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Story Of Opinions
A story so strange and disturbing that it writes itself
Surely these actions are not good for ones mental health
As dark as the day yet twisted in the hands of a pen
A story that has not yet fallen to the mind of men
A title that holds so much more honour than the object
The words that mark the page are nothing but a prospect
Of a decision or miscalculation that causes such deep regret
That neither king nor tyrant shall ever try to forget
Engraved on the face of the earth, buried in the heart
Burnt in the mind and sleeping in the soul, there is the start
Of a tale from so many different angles and opinions
Mourned by the victim or retold by the loyal minion
The ink that taints the page slowly swallows the truth
‘Unbiased' yet moulded to teach today's youth
The story clear as water yet disturbed by the waves
Propaganda gives the public the words they crave
So maybe it is true that one should read between the lines
Lessons have taught that words are twisted with the times
Whether for added affect, sympathy or to remain a mystery
That is the truth of my story, their story, her story, History.
poem by Rebecca Pepper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Silent Tears
What bitter sorrow courses down
Yon mourner’s faded cheek?
Those scalding drops betray a grief
Within, too full to speak.
Outspoken words cannot express
The pangs, the pains of years;
They’re ne’er so deep or eloquent
As are those silent tears.
Here is a wound that in the breast
Must canker, hid’n from sight;
Though all without seems sunny day,
Within ’Tis ever night.
Yet sometimes from this secret source
The gloomy truth appears;
The wind’s dark dungeon must have vent
If but in silent tears.
The world may deem from outward looks
That heart is hard and cold;
But oh! could they the mantle lift
What sorrows would be told!
Then, only then, the truth would show
Which most the bosom sears:
The pain portrayed by burning words
Or that by—silent tears.
poem by Henry Kendall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Crash
I put my best foot first and it got burnt
Communication always hurts
Ive got myself so deep inside a hole
I taste the air go thin as I get old, as I get old
I dont think so
Chorus:
Shes my hands, shes my hands
Picks me up when I crash down
Build me wings so I can glide
Shes my novocaine ride
Pick up the pieces of my world
Glue thme together, I wish I could
I cant believe it as the picture fades
Just like a tv, but the sound remains
I dont think so, no, I dont think so
Chorus
Feel it as I shake
Shatter illusions fade
Taste my bitter tears
Cut my heart with shears
I dont think so, I dont think so
Chorus
song performed by by Feeder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Silent Remembrance
The waves wash against the rocks,
And sadly turn away -
I hear the sound of my internal clock
Like a car speeding on a highway.
A silent pebble makes ripples on the water,
And slowly vanishes into the deep,
The sun sets in the day's third quarter,
As I sit alone on the shore and weep.
There was a similar setting a few years back -
Only it was filled with happiness and love;
A spark of romance that life currently lacks
A curse brought down upon me from above.
I loved my girl and she loved me too
Like Romeo & Juliet in a Shakespeare's tale:
We'd hold each other for hours under the sky - dark blue,
And share our romance with the omnipresent gale.
We had a perfect life filled with smiles -
A bond of unity that was hard to end -
The love flowed like the eternal Nile;
I was proud to have the most beautiful girlfriend
But then the sea that we adored
Betrayed us & sold her to death;
Her lifeless body washed ashore
Leaving me alive but taking away my breath
poem by Somnath Roy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Silent Winds
In that darkness lurking in-between
Deep sleeps and hazy waking
There resides a clear and clean
Whisper of brisk air that has me quaking
Like dark sand running through my fingers
Like water dripping from the leaves of nettle stingers
Smooth and rushing
This dark sand silently gushing
Like the stars in the sky lament
Shining and dark with every twinkling moment
The dark sands of a beach far away
Rushing in the oceans waters astray
Waking once red embers, now black
Like death, revived to enkindle
My heart, the strings have gone slack
Dark sand repair, filling the spindle
The one that holds the flame, it dwindled
Reclaiming that pain so aptly swindled
The peace of mind and half of my light
The candle flickers in black and white
In silent winds, taken aback,
Sweet were those dreams that attack
Sewed into the present and past
Somewhere with dark sands so vast.
poem by Deep Dark Soul Poet
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The house that died
An Empty house
An era bygone
Fragrant shadows
Echoes mourn
Smiles and tears
Joyous... morbid
Swift emotions
Of hues myriad
They say we bury
Our emotions alive
And forget in a hurry
But they live and thrive
This house... it lives
Through Echoes and smells
Stored memories behind its walls
Mystic house... story unfurls
A memory for every one who lived
Every single sigh they heaved
A voice whispers to tell the tale
Every memory has a smell
A ball room...under keys and lock
Wooden floor
Smells of rose and holy hock
Symphony rings
True to the core
Dining room
With its sounds
Clatter of spoons
“Cheers”...doing rounds
Nursery room
Giggling smiles
Whispering winds
On broken tiles
A chimney stands
Gathering soot
Smell of fire
Burning wood
And the kitchen
The lover’s nook
For the butler and the cook
Echoes of ladle
Hitting the pan
Boiling pot
And smoking can
A bed room smells of
Shadow and light
Echoes of love talks
Of the passionate lusty nights
The house that died
To live once more
Through smell’s portal and echoes door
Is calling out to you!
poem by Saurabh Som
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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