There once was a stock-man named Gaz
Who constantly got on your waz;
He chirped every day
In a bird kind of way
Like the prisoner from old Alcatraz.
(Written March 2004)
quote by by John Carter Brown
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
~ A Prisoner Of Your Love ~ [Double Acrostic]
A prisoner of your love. I stand behind four walls of gray.
- Alone; your memory my only company, each solitary day.
Locked down; twenty four hours around the clock, without you near.
- Living dreams of the past it seems, are all that I hold dear.
Constantly and always there, memories of you flow through the air.
- Constantly reminding me of our love. That we no longer share.
A prisoner of your love. Can I do the time? That's my only fear.
- And now the echo's of my lonely heart are the only sounds I hear.
Trapped; in this cinder block room. Shadows of gloom are here to stay.
- Trapped here without your love, as my blood turns prison gray.
Release may never come to me. This cell's become my home you see.
- Reliving how things used to be, in this gray walled penitentiary.
Alcatraz; is where I dwell. Where these gray walls are my living hell.
- Although one day escape I may. Right now's too soon to tell.
Zenith's, I know our love had reached. I'll love you still as time goes on.
- Zealously i'll wait for thee on ''The Rock''; till my last breath is gone..
*********************************** *************************************************
Author notes:
Written in double Acrostic -
This poem was inspired by a picture of Alcatraz Prison
''The Rock'' as they called it then. Built in 1866, closed
one hundred years later - and a poem written by one the
prisoners:
Untitled -
I awaken to gray
And gray is my morning sun
I live gray
And all days are like one
There are no colors
Only shadows along the way
Sometimes I think, the blood in my body
Must also be prison gray
Alcatraz
Now lay me down on market street
Im lookin for some spare change
A coast guard ship has been lookin for me
And I might have to change my name
Here comes uncle sam again with the same old bag of beans
The local chiefs on the radio
Hes got some hungry mouths to feed
Goin back to alcatraz
Lay me back down here on the highway
One hundred and one ways to go
Solitary is so confinin
To the legend of geronimo
Oh I know I could bring the rain
Used to dance for abc
And all the braves down on death row
Are pretending to be free
Back home in alcatraz
In the land of the great white father
My american blood runs cold
I left my home in oklahoma
To the everglades I go
Its just the wings on the silver cars
And Im allowed to plow a field
Its not the life for a nineteen seventy
(whats an)indian boy to do
Goin back to alcatraz
Lay me down on market street
Im lookin for some spare change
A coast guard ship has been lookin for me
Might have to change my name
Here comes uncle sam again with the same old bag of beans
Local chiefs on the radio
Hes got some hungry mouths to feed
Goin back to alcatraz
Here comes uncle sam again with the same old bag of beans
Local chiefs on the radio
Hes got some hungry mouths to feed
Goin back to alcatraz
Goin back to alcatraz
Goin back to alcatraz
Goin back to alcatraz
Goin back to alcatraz
Goin back to alcatraz
Goin back to alcatraz
Goin back to alcatraz
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
An artist must never be a prisoner. Prisoner? An artist should never be a prisoner of himself, prisoner of style, prisoner of reputation, prisoner of success, etc.
quote by Henri Matisse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Maybe I Was Damon In A Past Life
Maybe I was Damon Runyon in a past time
he died at age 66 which was the year I began my life.
I also write about someone I call the 'Guy'
who maybe is kind of shy.
Damon wrote a play with Dolls & Guys
which was acted out in NYC—very true-not a lie.
I write about a Doll
who is cute and kind of small.
Damon also named his pet _____
almost like mine.
I write about a character with letter
beginning with N—
he was only a sponsor to me—
he wanted to be more than friends—
Just like Damon-
who writes about characters where
he actually supported them
in his writing he actually defends.
Damon also writes about baseball
I don't know baseball at all.
I am more of a poet who story-tells-
I write of the doll character nicknamed Mel.
See baseball is not my cup of tea—
but to Damon he was famous for
being a reporter known around the country.
He even wrote a character named Sarah Brown
I have a character Sarah who lives by a clown.
Little Miss Marker was a play he wrote-
I wrote a poem Little Miss Melodie who sings a note.
His grandfather was from New Jersey just like me
I see a lot of similarities-
Written by Suzae Chevalier on March 17,2012
poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Damon Runyon In A Past Life?
Maybe I was Damon Runyon in a past time
he died at age 66 which was the year I began my life.
I also write about someone I call the 'Guy'
who maybe is kind of shy.
Damon wrote a play with Dolls & Guys
which was acted out in NYC—very true-not a lie.
I write about a Doll
who is cute and kind of small.
Damon also named his pet _____
almost like mine.
I write about a character with letter
beginning with N—
he was only a sponsor to me—
he wanted to be more than friends—
Just like Damon-
who writes about characters where
he actually supported them
in his writing he actually defends.
Damon also writes about baseball
I don't know baseball at all.
I am more of a poet who story-tells-
I write of the doll character nicknamed Mel.
See baseball is not my cup of tea—
but to Damon he was famous for
being a reporter known around the country.
He even wrote a character named Sarah Brown
I have a character Sarah who lives by a clown.
Little Miss Marker was a play he wrote-
I wrote a poem Little Miss Melodie who sings a note.
His grandfather was from New Jersey just like me
I see a lot of similarities-
Written by Suzae Chevalier on March 17,2012
www.suzae.com
poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Prisoner
Woke up this morning
feeling my life had changed.
I felt like a prisoner
with invisible bars surrounding me.
There seemed no way to escape
the torment that I feel.
My life seems to be forced
by some unwanted guiding hand.
Every move I make
is scrutinised very carefully,
no freedom of choice can be made.
My life never seems to be my own.
A shadow of despair
hangs over me like a angry cloud,
it follows me wherever I go,
complains if I do things
that are not what they would do.
It’s like being a prisoner
with a warder constantly at your side.
You cannot even breathe
without them being there.
Life has become stifled and stolen,
and there is little you can do.
You wish you could go back,
change a few things if you could,
but you cannot and so you go on.
Feeling like a prisoner
with invisible bar surrounding you.
22September 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Maybe I Was Damon In A Past Life
Maybe I was Damon Runyon in a past time
he died at age 66 which was the year I began my life.
I also write about someone I call the "Guy"
who maybe is kind of shy.
Damon wrote a play with Dolls & Guys
which was acted out in NYC—very true-not a lie.
I write about a Doll
who is cute and kind of small.
Damon also named his pet _____
almost like mine.
I write about a character with letter
beginning with N—
he was only a sponsor to me—
he wanted to be more than friends—
Just like Damon-
who writes about characters where
he actually supported them
in his writing he actually defends.
Damon also writes about baseball
I don't know baseball at all.
I am more of a poet who story-tells-
I write of the doll character nicknamed Mel.
See baseball is not my cup of tea—
but to Damon he was famous for
being a reporter known around the country.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on March 17,2012
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sally of the Valley
In the valley their lived sally,
She owned a dog named fog,
She found fog in the pound,
Fog loved frogs.
In the valley their lived sally,
With her dog named fog,
By the pond she found frond the cat,
Frond loved the pond.
In the valley their lived Sally,
With her dog named fog,
And frond of the pond
She found a bird and named him word.
In the valley their lived sally,
Word was a small bird,
He loved to fly high in the sky,
Frond was fond of him.
In the valley their lived sally,
With her dog named fog,
Frond a cat from the pond,
And her bird named word.
In the valley their lived sally,
Sally died in the valley,
They were all down in the pound,
I miss sally of the valley.
poem by Nicolette Gonzalez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Prisoner
- m. carey - b. margulies -
You dont think that Ill be strong enough
Nooo baby now
I wont be a prisoner of your love
(prisoner of your love)
Maybe you dont think I love you strong enough
But Im not gonna be a prisoner of your love
I know youre lyin, denyin
All of your actions, so listen up
Cause heres my reaction
Here comes the night
No more living in the shadow of your love
This is my life
Always tried so hard to keep me down
But now Ill rise above
Those empty lies
Stop pretending that my accusations
Take you by surprise
Ive realized
Now Im ending all the secrecy
I see through your disguise
All the dreams we planned
I believed so I held on
I understand
So when the morning comes
You know that Ill be gone
You dont think that Ill be strong enough
Nooo baby now
I wont be a prisoner of your love
(prisoner of your love)
No longer blind
I can focus on deception
Used to keep me by your side
I read your mind
Dont believe its all a mystery
Theres nothing you can hide
Its all defined
Theres nothing you can tell me now
To change the way I feel inside
All the dreams we planned
I believed so I held on
I understand, yeah
So when the morning comes
You know that Ill be gone
(you dont think) that Ill be strong enough
Noo baby now
(I wont be) the prisoner of your love
(prisoner of your love)
Im just not the girl you thought I was
Not gonna be a prisoner
I wont be the prisoner of your love
Of your
Looove
Dont wanna be a prisoner
I dont wanna be a prisoner
No
Mmmh
Dont wanna be a prisoner
I dont wanna be a prisoner
So if you wanna be my love
You cant be all wild
Play up when
You see me and then say mariah I miss you
Expect me to hug and kiss you?
Dont that dis you?
But I guess Im not the kind of girl you thought I was
Ive had enough of now Ill see ya later cause...
Boy make me know that Ill be strong enough
But I wont be a prisoner baby of your love
No more no more no more no more no more no more
No nooo, baby now
I wont think
(no no no)
Prisoner of your loooove
(prisoner of your love)
(Im just not) the girl you thought I was
Oh
Not gonna be a prisoner
(not gonna be)
(I wont be) the prisoner of your
Love
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Yeah
Im not one of those girls wholl wait around
Cryin cause you wouldnt take me all over town
You cant do that
Im not a door mat
Youre just a player
Thats not my format
Cya
song performed by by Mariah Carey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The memory in the grave
My grandfather went to the grave
With a relief in my getting a son
Thus ensuring his stock to exist.
He didn’t know my son has no son.
It makes him no difference but to me.
21.06.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Always Remember My Dear Caterpillar
always remember what the black bird once chirped
that wise bird long buried in the sands and leaves of time
that which angers you
conquers you
that which does not kill you
strengthens you
that which you love
enslaves you
and that which loves you
with fire from her eyes
and cinders from her heart
may soon
make you the most vulnerable
link in the chain
of creation
a caterpillar crawling
in the world of roses
either it soon turns to stone
a pebble or even dust
with no promise of
metamorphosis
once in the life of the
trusting butterfly
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
March
Were I young again
and the month of March
were upon me
I'd skip down the road,
do a march to March,
sing a tune to March
dance a dance to March,
risk a prance to March,
strut and grind and do
a break dance to March.
Hop, skip and jump to March,
just like a the girl I used to be,
once upon a time in March,
when my cheeks had high colour
and my hopes were high.
poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sainthood?
I need no kind of any love,
Let alone praises or respects.
I need no kind of any sway,
Let alone power and influence.
I need no kind of any thanks,
Lei alone gratitude and remembrance.
My ego has grown with appetite lost.
Am I a wood or in sainthood?
Who knows I have no joy nor sorrow
28.10.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
March 11, 2004, now occupies a place in the history of infamy.
quote by Jose Maria Aznar
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Sylph
I saw you and I named a flower
That lights with blue a woodland space,
I named a bird of the red hour
And a hidden fairy place.
And then I saw you not, and knew
Dead leaves were whirling down the mist,
And something lost was crying through -
An evening of amethyst.
poem by Francis Ledwidge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Here's To Anti War People
To so called patriots and pro war people and those to enlightenment blind
They are not to be trusted and are traitor kind
But they march for peace and I see that as great
And they are the people that I celebrate
If anti war people are seen by some as traitors and guilty of grave sin
Then I too am a traitor amongst them count me in
For war never brings true peace despite what some say
And somewhere in the World war is waged every day
In Countries in Africa, The Middle East and Afghanistan and Iraq
People constantly living in fear of attack
From terrorists and extremists that war did create
Compassionless people who are consumed by hate
So here's to anti war people their praises I must sing
Their march is for peace and that is a great thing.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
You March On
You, unknown traveller of untreaded path
march on, march on, march on
will reach your destination
one day
though far off
march on, march on, march on.
Look back, never, even by mistake
forget, never, the hardships you bore
guide, will be your past deeds of life,
full of pangs on the bed of stake
What holds destiny?
Not to worry?
............Just march on, march on, march on.
Adversities make you a fast learner
Desires are snakes, so be a shirker
search the deep sea to find a pearl
get to the shore, while facing the whirl
Think never to be feeble & meek
deliver everyone from the misdeeds
while truth you seek
clear all hurdles regaining your strength
you will reach the destination
march on...march on....march on.
Carve out your name on the horizon
as your stars are on the ascendant
work towards the goal night and day
be illuminated in such a way
sluggish should appear the milky way
You, unknown traveller of untreaded path
march on, march on, march on
will reach your destination
one day
though far off
march on, march on, march on.
poem by Tribhawan Kaul
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When a lost bird flies to your roost in the fog
'You are very familiar but I think that you have missed your particular nest.'
The kind bird said.
'Yes, I know my dear but my nest is no more as it's scattered by the Easterly winds.
And I think a lone bird never let me go away isn't it? ' The beautiful singing bird questioned.
'You are most welcome sweet but my nest is not strong enough for the two of us and I have little doubts about the coming hurricane.' The kind lone bird replied
'Let the wind blows and take us away but not alone, now we could start singing together from the place where you have stopped.' And she smiled.
* To Alison & Jerry..................!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I have a cousin named....
I have a cousin named tru,
Who is always more excited than you,
He jumps an dhe bounces,
in so many houses,
I have a cousin named tru,
Who might belong in a zoo,
He moos and he poos,
while on the news.
I have a cousin named tru,
Who will try o say boo,
when you come out the lou.
I have a cousin named tru,
Who probably won't say goo,
Because he's ay older than two,
Whose name is not sue.
I cousin named tru...
I love you tru!
Jennifer’s Lad
SWEET Jennifer came calling me
Along the shining beach.
'There's green upon the hawthorn tree
There's bloom upon the peach.
O, April's found the upland larch,
The hazel in the hollow,'–
But louder was the snare-drum with it's 'March, march, march !'
And clearer called the bugle, 'Will you follow ?'
Young Jennifer came seeking me
With love upon her lips.
'O, all kind angels keep the sea
And fortune guard the ships.
The Autumn winds have rent the larch,
The south has won the swallow,'–
But clearer beat the snare-drum with it's 'March, march, march !'
And sweeter sang the bugle, 'Will you follow ?'
poem by Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!