Autumn Begins in Martins Ferry, Ohio
In the Shreve High football stadium,
I think of Polacks nursing long beers in Tiltonsville,
And gray faces of Negroes in the blast furnace at Benwood,
And the ruptured night watchman of Wheeling Steel,
Dreaming of heroes.
All the proud fathers are ashamed to go home.
Their women cluck like starved pullets,
Dying for love.
Therefore,
Their sons grow suicidally beautiful
At the beginning of October,
And gallop terribly against each other's bodies.
poem by James Arlington Wright
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Windy Nights
Whenever the moon and stars are set,
Whenever the wind is high,
All night long in the dark and wet,
A man goes riding by.
Late in the night when the fires are out,
Why does he gallop and gallop about?
Whenever the trees are crying aloud,
And ships are tossed at sea,
By, on the highway, low and loud,
By at the gallop goes he.
By at the gallop he goes, and then
By he comes back at the gallop again.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Family of War
Every morning I awake I fall to my knees and pray.
God, please make the war in Iraq come to end.
There are too many fathers and sons come home
in pine boxes. There are too many mothers and daughters
doing the same. Leaving behind fathers and sons mothers
and daughter with a last memory of them waving goodbye.
There is too much blood and tears of fathers and sons mothers
and daughters being shed all in the name of peace.
God please let our leaders see how many families are dying
and that war can never bring peace. Only love can.
This prayer is my gun and God you’re the bullet I’m shooting
to end this Family of War.
The Faces Of Our Women
Mary didn't give birth to God.
Mary isn't the mother of God.
Mary is one mother among many mothers.
Mary gave birth to a son,
a son among many sons.
That's why Mary is so beautiful in all the pictures of her.
That's why Mary's son is so close to us, like our own sons.
The faces of our women are the book of our pains.
Our pains, our faults and the blood we shed
carve scars on the faces of our women like plows.
And our joys are reflected in the eyes of women
like the dawns glowing on the lakes.
Our imaginations are on the faces of women we love.
Whether we see them or not, they are before us,
closest to our realities and furthest.
poem by Nazim Hikmet
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A Woman´s World
It is a woman´s world
The new sex symbols are men they want to look like
muscular heroes seen on TV and on films.
They train several times a day to get a perfect body
other men have, thinking they must to attract women,
but all they attract are other men who fall into
the same trap what a beautiful body is the beginning
and a goal by itself. Why is it that men have been
reduced to think of their body must be perfect when
it by itself has little value? In a world where women
are equal; men subconsciously think they have in order
to attract women must look nice and attractive.
But women are not stupid they may adore a beautiful
Body, but they prefer, after having a fling with a body
builder, marry a man with prospects who can give
them security and economic stability. Women are not
romantic, they pretend to be, but prefer to marry
a man who can look after their children regardless if
the man are the real fathers or not, because a man
will accept a foundling in the name of love.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Heroes And Villains
I've been in this town so long that back in the city
I've been taken for lost and gone
And unknown for a long long time
Fell in love years ago
With an innocent girl
From the spanish and indian home
Home of the heroes and villains
Once at night catillian squared the fight
And she was right in the rain of the bullets that eventually brought her down
But she's still dancing in the night
Unafraid of what a dude'll do in a town full of heroes and villains
Heroes and villains
Just see what you've done
Heroes and villains
Just see what you've done
Stand or fall i know there
Shall be peace in the valley
And it's all an affair
Of my life with the heroes and villains
My children were raised
You know they suddenly rise
They started slow long ago
Head to toe healthy weathy and wise
I've been in this town so long
So long to the city
I'm fit with the stuff
To ride in the rough
And sunny down snuff i'm alright
By the heroes and
Heroes and villains
Just see what you've done
Heroes and villains
Just see what you've done
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cost of Freedom
The night was cold,
But with bodies hot and roaring to go,
The skies black, filled with smoke and, lit with fire works,
But not the ones you want to see.
The 20 year old man writes to his love on a hard rock,
Telling her everything is alright and it’s over,
Now he can come home in peace.
30 years ago today, Jake sat on that bolder,
Witting a letter to a women that would become his wife.
Sipping his coffee, the clock strikes 8 am,
He knows its November 10, Th
The day of too many.
They had gone to bed for the night,
In steel bunkers, fires put out, and blankets over their bodies,
Guards right out side, so they can sleep all night without a fright.
Waking them all from dreaming in warm beds,
Was one more show, one more fight,
The enemy fireworks took many lives that night,
And within the presents of dawn,
Came the digging of many unmarked friends graves,
The friends that fought side by side for all those months,
Those same soldiers that will never make it home in peace.
Timer went off to get the cookies out of the oven,
Jake smiles, wipes the tears away from his eyes,
And says “these are for you Brad, you my best friend.
My war hero that didn’t come home in peace.
I am sorry your grave was one that was dug,
And for I bare the shovel.
One day we will walk side by side again.”
He knows the cost of freedom! Do you?
P.S.
thank you to all the men and women that made\make it so I can be free. thank you so much.
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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Heroes & Villains
Ive been in this town so long that back in the city
Ive been taken for lost and gone
And unknown for a long long time
Fell in love years ago
With an innocent girl
From the spanish and indian home
Home of the heroes and villains
Once at night catillian squared the fight
And she was right in the rain of the bullets that eventually brought her down
But shes still dancing in the night
Unafraid of what a dudell do in a town full of heroes and villains
Heroes and villains
Just see what youve done
Heroes and villains
Just see what youve done
Stand or fall I know there
Shall be peace in the valley
And its all an affair
Of my life with the heroes and villains
My children were raised
You know they suddenly rise
They started slow long ago
Head to toe healthy weathy and wise
Ive been in this town so long
So long to the city
Im fit with the stuff
To ride in the rough
And sunny down snuff Im alright
By the heroes and
Heroes and villains
Just see what youve done
Heroes and villains
Just see what youve done
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Very First Football Match
Holding my Fathers hand
walking to the ground
crowds of Football fans
making lots of sound.
Standing on the terraces
players warming up
maybe a League game
or even the F.A.Cup.
Dad said I just stared
but that I enjoyed it all
and when I got back home
went straight out with my ball.
And when I too became a Dad
I went and did exactly the same
taking both my young sons
to nearly every home game.
So if your looking down Dad
and you spot me in the crowd
you'll see I've carried on the tradition
and I hope it makes you proud.
poem by Kevin Halls
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The Chomillah palace in Hyderabad
The palace was luminously wet and reached out to sky
In its shadow lay the kings and their faceless women
Whose fine drapery interrupted their noses and seeing eyes
Under big-vaulting domes and resounding halls.
Their noises went up to the ceiling and returned empty
Like their noses and eyes lost from their faces.
They were not lost actually but had never been there.
When the silks arrived they forgot the women’s faces.
The women sat there gossiping about other women,
Other women in the harem and their fine draperies.
Their men’s bloated egos did not show on men’s faces;
Their men’s egos showed on the women’s stomachs, ,
On the little heirs to the throne who came from there.
A fine bangle, a glittering necklace and some pearls
Hush talk about the latest addition to the harem
And other scraps of conversation went on as it rained.
They had no faces for the evening conversation,
Only bodies fully draped in the finest gilded silks.
In the beginning they sat on the ground huddled.
Later the West grew on them in the white man’s land
And they sat on sofas and high backed chairs presiding
Tea ceremonies just like the sophisticated women.
They still did not have their noses on their faces.
poem by Jagannath rao Adukuri
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Their Football Team To Them Important
Their flags and their banners they are waving with joy and excitement they shout
The hero has kicked the winning goal but what are they shouting about
To them it should not really matter 'tis only a game of football
But to them it is very important and their's is the best team of all.
At least that is how they do see it their lives revolves around their team
When their team win a huge boost to their egos and a loss bad for their self esteem
Last week their team lost in a thriller but their loss reduced them to tears
And tonight they will sing their Club song in the Local and celebrate with a few beers.
They look forward to the football Season and they live for the love of the game
And on their bedroom walls a poster sized photograph of their heroes and they know every player by name
Why do they take football so serious they talk about it at work every day
But suppose each of us have our own passions and each to their own one might say.
Their flags and their banners they are waving as proudly they sing their Club song
And they look forward to next weekend's game each day till then for them too long
Their football team to them important their lives revolve around the game
And each time their heroes are defeated the umpires for the loss they will blame.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Women Raising Their Boys
Women raising their boys,
And alone.
Do it with the expectation,
A teaching them to be fathers...
Will be different,
From the ones they've known.
But can a women teach a boy,
To become the best man he can?
And within his mind,
Will that boy comprehend...
What it takes to treat a woman.
With a respectful understanding?
And this to a boy from a woman,
Is taught as a lesson to become understood?
Women raising their boys,
And alone.
Without a father around...
Can be beneficial,
If those lessons are solid and sound.
If women raising their boys,
And alone..
Seek to find more men around to be found,
Will their raising of boys to become men...
And not boys to be fathers,
Develop more men being fathers...
To their fatherless boys
And,
Will someday...
When those boys become men,
Will this make more women proud of them?
Will these boys grow into becoming,
Accountable men?
Understand it takes more,
Than just the act...
Than to produce the fathering of children?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Bill's Son Joe
Bill wishes his son had been a well known Sportsman
My son's a poet you never hear him say
As if that is something to be ashamed of
'Tis a strange World that we live in today.
Young Joe has no interest in sports or football
He'd rather go to the park by the bay
And watch the seagulls by the park bench tables
Squabble for scraps of food the picknickers throw away.
Joe is nineteen he doesn't have sisters or brothers
A fine young poet with words he has a way
His Nature poems original and special
That's what the poetry critics of him say.
The other fathers talk of their sons sporting prowess
My son ran well, my son played a fine game
But Bill he never talks about his son Joe
As if writing poetry is a thing of shame.
As if writing poetry is for women only
The redneck father has a cultured son
He doesn't feel proud that his son is a good poet
And that a prestigious poetry prize he's won.
Bill son Joe is a poet of rare talent
With which the father he is not impressed at all
He'd much prefer that he were a good sportsman
Good at athletics, boxing or football
poem by Francis Duggan
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Pride for pyre
I have a son; how proud I was
When he was born! How proud I was
When he had grown and abroad flown!
Left to neglect, I am still proud
Of him, his sons, sons’ sons,
Non of whom have given their dues.
I broadcast of them in the old age home
To earn for my pyre some respect.
16.03.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Only Woman Bleed
Man's got his woman to take his seed
He's got the power - oh
She's got the need
She spends her life through pleasing up her man
She feeds him dinner or anything she can
She cries alone at night too often
He smokes and drinks and don't come home at all
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Man makes your hair gray
He's your life's mistake
All you're really lookin' for is an even break
He lies right at you
You know you hate this game
He slaps you once in a while and you live and love in pain
She cries alone at night too often
He smokes and drinks and don't come home at all
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Black eyes all of the time
Don't spend a dime
Clean up this grime
And you there down on your knees begging me please come
Watch me bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Only Women Bleed
Man's got his woman to take his seed
He's got the power - oh
She's got the need
She spends her life through pleasing up her man
She feeds him dinner or anything she can
She cries alone at night too often
He smokes and drinks and don't come home at all
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Man makes your hair gray
He's your life's mistake
All you're really lookin' for is an even break
He lies right at you
You know you hate this game
He slaps you once in a while and you live and love in pain
She cries alone at night too often
He smokes and drinks and don't come home at all
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Black eyes all of the time
Don't spend a dime
Clean up this grime
And you there down on your knees begging me please come
Watch me bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
song performed by by Alice Cooper from Welcome To My Nightmare
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Only Women Bleed
Man's got his woman to take his seed
He's got the power - oh
She's got the need
She spends her life through pleasing up her man
She feeds him dinner or anything she can
She cries alone at night too often
He smokes and drinks and don't come home at all
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Man makes your hair gray
He's your life's mistake
All you're really lookin' for is an even break
He lies right at you
You know you hate this game
He slaps you once in a while and you live and love in pain
She cries alone at night too often
He smokes and drinks and don't come home at all
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Black eyes all of the time
Don't spend a dime
Clean up this grime
And you there down on your knees begging me please come
Watch me bleed.
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
song performed by by Guns N' Roses
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ballad of Brother Walfrid
My name is Andrew Kerins,
born and bred in Ballymote
I left my home at an early age
and traveled to Scotland in a trawler boat
Would I ever again see Ireland,
as the famine had stolen her strength
Would Scotland welcome the Diaspora,
of Irish men & women
My calling of becoming a Marist Priest
led me to the Glasgow parish of St.Mary's
Where the immigrant Irish, poor and starved,
made home in the east end of the city
My heart cried out when I saw theses lost souls,
living in poverty and in squalor
As Protestant Scotland would not accept,
their accent, dress or culture.
I prayed day and night to Our Lord,
for the welfare of St.Patrick's flock,
As jobs were few and far between
as they were ridiculed, harassed and mocked,
From all over Ireland, they came to Glasgow,
to escape the potatoe blight
Some had wished they had went to America,
to live in the comfort of the stars and stripes
I saw the hunger on the faces of children
when they sat for Sunday Mass,
My dream was to feed them once a day,
that became my spiritual task.
Along with the St Vincent de Paul Society,
we would reach out to these starving souls,
The Poor Children's 'Penny Dinner' Table was formed,
for the undernourished children of Glasgow.
The Donegal dialect and the Kerry brogue,
I heard within my confessional,
As Ireland’s lonely sons and daughters
spoke of broken hearts and promises,
I sought to feed their hunger
and bring hope to their shattered dreams
I fought to bring them comfort,
to silence their children’s screams.
At St.Mary’s hall in the Calton,
in February of 1887
I joined the victory celebrations
for a football team called Hibernian,
They were the pride of every Irishman
from Scotland’s east and west coast,
Were we sang songs of dear old Ireland,
to Hibernian, some gave a toast.
Like a vision of God before me,
inspiration came to me I a dream
Were the old east end of Glasgow,
would like Edinburgh, have an Irish team,
No more would Irish families live in poverty
or see their children sick,
For a football team would play for charity
and that team I would call Celtic.
For months, we toiled the barren land
that sat upon Janefield Street
And built a stadium for football
were the Irish would gather and meet,
I saw smiles appear on the faces of children,
who carried Ireland in their heart,
For they could not wait to welcome the Bhoys,
Who would one day grace Celtic Park.
Daniel McDonagh – Apr’27th 2006
poem by Daniel McDonagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tommorrow Never Knows
Turn off your mind, relax and float downstream
It is not dying, it is not dying.
Lay down all thoughts, surrender to the void
It is shining, oh it is shining.
That you may see the meaning of within
It is beginning, oh it is beginning.
That love is all and love is evryone
It is knowing, oh it is knowing.
And ignorance and hate may mourn the dead
It is believing, oh it is believing.
So play the game, existence to the end
Of the beginning, of the beginning.
Of the beginning, of the beginning...
Somewhere over the rainbow
Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high
Theres a land that I dreamed of once in a lullaby
(okay-)
song performed by by Phil Collins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Is Beautiful
What is beautiful?
Children playing together not concerned with the color of their skin
Watching a child’s creativity in playing with an imaginary friend
Every child that we see playing happily and smiling
God’s gift of a child is life’s most precious blessing
This is beautiful!
What is beautiful?
Watching our kids growing up during adolescence
Discover who they are; the need to “fit in” is present
They may find that during this time, life is quite stressful
Yet, they’re finding new friends and this feels wonderful
This is beautiful!
What is beautiful?
Teenagers that becomes so excited in going on their first date
Parents reminiscing this moment; a lost feeling that was great
Both the joy and nervousness as a teen experience a first kiss
A first kiss is an unforgettable moment; the feeling of bliss
This is beautiful!
What is beautiful?
Watching teenagers emerging into young men and women
They’re bodies are maturing; their emotions are growing
They are about to leave to begin working or go on to college
They will learn more about life and gain much knowledge
This is beautiful!
What is beautiful?
Men and women during the prime of their lives
From healthy bodies outside to wonderful spirits inside
From men’s masculinities to a women’s soft, silky skin
Their hearts are filled with love and compassion within
This is beautiful!
What is beautiful?
From the appearance across the sky from the setting sun
To a couple’s minds, souls, and hearts uniting as one
From the wonderful beauty in the wings of a white dove
To the warmth and the feeling of love and to be loved
This is beautiful!
What is beautiful?
We grow older; wrinkles are now showing on our face
Yet within, the same love shines through with every embrace
The beauty of our once young faces is still present in our hearts within
Life’s utmost beauty; loving the times spent with our families and friends
This is beautiful!
poem by David Hall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tomorrow Never Knows
(lennon/mccartney)
Turn off your mind, relax and float downstream
It is not dying, it is not dying.
Lay down all thoughts, surrender to the void
It is shining, oh it is shining.
That you may see the meaning of within
It is beginning, oh it is beginning.
That love is all and love is evryone
It is knowing, oh it is knowing.
And ignorance and hate may mourn the dead
It is believing, oh it is believing.
So play the game, existence to the end
Of the beginning, of the beginning.
Of the beginning, of the beginning...
Somewhere over the rainbow
Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high
Theres a land that I dreamed of once in a lullaby
song performed by by Phil Collins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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