Happy Mother's Day
Pressure intense
around my head
and shoulders.
I am pushed
thrust
towards a distant
glimmering light.
My perfect
world
collapsing.
I am pulled
unwilling
into a world of bright
and cold.
Pummeled
by a white coated
assassin.
Made to weep
forced to breathe.
They lay me down
on your warm belly.
Your voice says
softly
'Hello, little guy'
I think
(but do not say)
Happy Mother's Day!
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
The Mourners
LOW she lies, who blest our eyes
Through many a sunny day;
She may not smile, she will not rise--
The life hath past away!
Yet there is a world of light beyond,
Where we neither die nor sleep--
She is there, of whom our souls were fond--
Then wherefore do we weep?
The heart is cold, whose thoughts were told
In each glance of her glad bright eye;
And she lies pale, who was so bright,
She scarce seemed made to die.
Yet we know that her soul is happy now,
Where the saints their calm watch keep;
That angels are crowning that fair young brow--
Then wherefore do we weep?
Her laughing voice made all rejoice,
Who caught the happy sound;
There was gladness in her very step,
As it lightly touched the ground.
The echoes of voice and step are gone;
There is silence still and deep:
Yet we know she sings by God's bright throne--
Then wherefore do we weep?
The cheek's pale tinge, the lid's dark fringe;
That lies like a shadow there,
Were beautiful in the eyes of all--
And her glossy golden hair!
But though that lid may never wake
From its dark and dreamless sleep,
She is gone where young hearts do not break--
Then wherefore do we weep?
That world of light with joy is bright,
This is a world of woe:
Shall we grieve that her soul hath taken flight,
Because we dwell below?
We will bury her under the mossy sod,
And one long bright tress we'll keep;
We have only given her back to God--
Ah! wherefore do we weep?
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Edgecrusher
Conceived in a hell beyond your depth of perception
Chaotic case of conquering domination
Psychopath snaps fired chains of imprisonment
A bludgeoning force thats undermining the government
Inflict strain upon the structure
Collapsing below my pressure
Inflict strain upon the structure
Collapsing below my pressure
Break of the edgecrusher...
The purist, non-conformist, jaded subhuman terrorist
From flesh to steel and blood to blade I fight to exist
A rival of justice, extreme rush of hatred
Survival in a twisted world where nothing is sacred
Inflict strain upon the structure
Collapsing below my pressure
Inflict strain upon the structure
Collapsing below my pressure
Break of the edgecrusher...
song performed by by Fear Factory
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Pressure Point
I can't get this pressure point out of my head
I can't get this pressure point out of my head
I feel it in work, you know, I feel it in bed
I can't get this pressure point out of my head
I've paid all my bills and I've acted so well
Ain't been cheating, there's nothing to tell
So why all this pressure, I dont understand
I call on my neighbours, and lend them a hand
Doctor, oh doctor, I'm willing to learn
Well all of my bones, well they toss and they turn
Mother, oh mother, I'm begging you please
To rid me of madness and cure this disease
... (?) told you what I have become
With all of this pressure, my mind's on a run
... (?) changing, let's hope for the best
Maybe it's something to get off my chest
Doctor, oh doctor, I'm begging you please
To rid me of madness and cure this disease
Mother, oh mother, I'm willing to learn
Well all of my bones, well they toss and they turn
Pressure pressure pressure pressure...
Pressure pressure pressure pressure...
Pressure pressure pressure pressure...
Pressure pressure pressure pressure...
I can't get this pressure point out of my head
I can't get this pressure point out of my head
I feel it in work, you know, I feel it in bed
I can't get this pressure point out of my head
Pressure pressure pressure pressure...
Pressure pressure pressure pressure...
Pressure pressure pressure pressure...
Pressure pressure pressure pressure...
song performed by by Zutons
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Assassin, the Artist, and the Dog
Walking across this dangerous land
In this magical but corrupted world
The assassin, the artist, and the dog travel
This world is unbalanced
It surely is a world in ruin
The assassin, the artist, and the dog travel
And they know
That to survive
They must fight
Whether they like it or not
The assassin has his dangerous swords
and sharpened throwing tools
The artist has her enchanted paintbrushes
and magical paints
The dog has his bark and bite
And that's good enough for him
Everything else is perfect for the rest of them
During the day
During the night
As they travel along
It's a world on the brink of madness
But the assassin, the artist, and the dog know
of that
They know of the choices and chances they'll
have to make and take
It's tough out there to survive
But they know what it will take
They know what the world is like
They know how the world is
poem by Justin Gildow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Chimney Sweeper
When my mother died I was very young,
And my father sold me while yet my tongue
Could scarcely cry ‘ 'weep! 'weep! 'weep! 'weep!’
So your chimneys I sweep, and in soot I sleep.
There’s little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head,
That curl'd like a lamb’s back, was shav'd: so I said
‘Hush, Tom! never mind it, for when your head’s bare
You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair.’
And so he was quiet, and that very night,
As Tom was a-sleeping, he had such a sight!—
That thousands of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned, and Jack,
Were all of them lock'd up in coffins of black.
And by came an Angel who had a bright key,
And he open'd the coffins & set them all free;
Then down a green plain leaping, laughing, they run
And wash in a river, and shine in the Sun.
Then naked & white, all their bags left behind,
They rise upon clouds, and sport in the wind;
And the Angel told Tom, if he’d be a good boy,
He’d have God for his father, & never want joy.
And so Tom awoke; and we rose in the dark,
And got with our bags & our brushes to work.
Tho' the morning was cold, Tom was happy & warm;
So if all do their duty, they need not fear harm.
poem by William Blake from Songs of Innocence (1789)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
Your Light Farewell
You bid unwilling farewell so light,
Your smiles rushes this golden day;
Memory gallops in, in every sight.
You painted the clouds in whitish bright
as you faded through a silvery ray;
You bid unwilling farewell so light.
Soon winds will whisper in ivory night,
gentle rains will echo your laughter in a way
memory gallops in, in every sight.
Red must the roses be, but they turned white
on that day you choose in our hearts to stay;
You bid unwilling farewell so light.
You dwell here where the dawn takes its flight,
in the morning where sunrise burns to play
and - memory gallops in, in every sight.
The world fancied but then turns right;
The day you painted rainbows and smiled away
you bid unwilling farewell so light;
Then... (memory gallops in, in every sight)
poem by Roland Jr Jamito
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Near the craddle [Lângă leagăn]
On your forehead a nice wreath made of myrtle I will place
And around your neck I'll tie a rich necklace full of grace,
On your smooth and rounded arm like the lily petals, white,
I'll put bracelets, coral red, and fine rubies shining bright.
A nice dress as white as foam, light as clouds which cross the sky,
On your shoulders I will hang and like angels who can fly
You will also fly away – but instead of mother's kiss
Your dear soul will then be rocked by sweet love and perfect bliss.
poem by Veronica Micle, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
Vote! | Copy!
A Cry from the Gate
A belly, heaving, a body that shivered in cold
A cry so distant, piecing hearts gone cold
Its head, veins ran like ropes, tying fire wood
An alarm it raised, a siren it blew
A mother, cold hearted, a mother who knew
The initial journey, when it started out of blue.
A life, brought, to a world, his dreams knew not
Instinctual desires, comprehension, not
Reflex for survival, steamed, energized, death, here, not
A nun, a Virgin Mary, had never experienced child making
A cry from the gate, pieced her heart, in sanctity, reached, and carrying
The baby, in her armpits, forehead kissed, a new window opening.
poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I met the girl with the world inside her head
I met the girl with the world inside her head
She said “ it will be safe there”
And I just knew that I could trust her
I met the father of the girl with the world inside her head
He said “I gave her the world because I made her a promise”
And I just had to look up to him
I met the mother of the girl with the world inside her head
She told me that she had married the right man
And it sounded like she always knew she would
I took the girl with the world inside her head to the next town
She told me “ I feel I must close me eyes and I must not listen”
And we sat in silence
I married the girl with the world inside her head
We lived a perfect life
And I just knew it would turn out that way
I fathered the child of the girl with the world inside her head
I am reassured that our child will be safe with us
And I never really imagined anything different
I looked upon the mother who gave everything to the child
Until the day she died
Until the day the child asked for the world
In grief I looked upon the world and cursed it
poem by Lindsay Crosby
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Addictionary
I'm touching the strings but
I cannot touch the sound
I'm hearing of God
But I cannot hear his voice
He made the winds, they freeze my bones
But I cannot feel the arms
That made these arms around me
I fight with him
But can you beat against the air?
Thrown beyond my strength
Upon a floor so hard, so...rough
No hand nor bed of roses to break my fall
Pushed against walls for years and days
Been pushing back with no anchor
The waves they sing of a tale
In time sad, tragic, hopeful but fated
To end on the floor beneath the sea
The cold, cold ocean near the seaweed
The algae, and sharks that
Refuse to have me for dinner
But leave me bleeding on every side
The earth beneath the cold, cold ocean is warm, warm
I hear the unimportant tiny creatures
Converse next to my aqua filled eardrums
There is a God. Where is he?
Will she wake? Is this the end?
The weight of my world on my shoulders
The shoulders which lie flat
On the brink of death's wish and faith's hope
A rope was given
I tied it myself
The journey began
All was blissfully pink until all was toughly grey
A life of passion, the passion of life
Passion knew not passion in me
Nay, it knew it not
'May your days be hard and journey rough'
They bid me bye, wishing me well
I injected my passion in the earth's vein
And released all I came to earth with
One blow after another, no time to breathe
And in due pain, morphine in the mortal vein
A man walking beside me once said
Sleeping with an empty bottle
Was the sign of an empty-hearted man
The pillow in my pillowcase
The fluff in the pillow in my pillowcase
Tear soaked pillows
No one in sight, not one fellow
Empty bottles, popping pills, cigarette butts
Morphine, heroine, meth, name your poison
The fix, my cool
Pulsating veins calmed
The lights of my eyes are on
Knock, knock. Tap, tap.
I'm not home
I took a stroll on Mars, its haven
Caffeine-spirited laughter
Whatever turns the light of reality off
Rock bottom...literally...rock bottom
A rope was thrown
My head was above water
I'm breathing...but cannot grasp the air
Faith, hope and love call out my name
From the rocky, sandy shore
A day a time, we'll see you through
I reach the shore and hear a sound
I'm not touching the strings
But I hear the music
The waves they string away
Go your way we pray
More like you to save and show the way
You're stronger than you think
But in your weakness, my strength is made perfect
I tune my ears
The waves stringing?
The waves singing?
Or He who made music?
poem by Jenim Dibie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
(V - 2009) My Mother and This World
If all were
So loving as my mother
This world would be so happier!
If all were
So passionate as my mother
This world would be so greener!
If all were
So compassionate as my mother
This world would be so safer!
If all were
So conscious as my mother
This world would be so healthier!
If all were
So considerate as my mother
This world would be so peaceful!
If all were
So sensitive as my mother
This world would be so painful!
If all were
So cautious as my mother
This world would be so backward!
If all were
So charitable as my mother
This world would be so lazy!
If all were
So forgiving as my mother
This world would be so irresponsible!
If all were
So enduring as my mother
This world would be so cruel!
So I would that
This world be what it would be ever
And
My mother be
My mother for ever.
Breathe And Help
I seen things go wrong,
In this world
and I don't like it,
Breathe.
There so much hate,
In this world,
and I don't like it,
Breathe.
Passion is lost forever,
In this world,
and I don't like it,
Breathe.
So much domestic abuse,
In this world,
and I don't like it,
Breathe.
All this unnecessary war,
In this world,
And I don't like it,
Breathe.
People hurting people,
In this world,
And I don't like it,
Breathe.
Children in needs.
In this world,
Do something,
Help.
So much poverty,
In this world,
Do Something,
Help.
Too many countries suffering,
In this world,
Do Something,
Help.
Too many people starving,
In this world,
Do Something,
Help.
Too many things unfair,
In this world,
Do Something,
Help.
poem by Gianni Pintus
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The World Seemed On His Shoulders
His head was bowed
and he shuffled quite quietly.
A deep frown across his forehead,
his smile he wore upside down.
The world seemed on his shoulders,
dragging him down and down.
His friends all called out to him,
but silence was their reply.
He seemed a man lost to the world
with no place to go.
His job was an endless repetition
of things he had done too many times before.
Home was just an empty room
where he could shelter from
each daily storm.
The world seemed on his shoulders
even when he went to bed
with a heart that sadness filled
There was no bright light,
no one to turn,
his upside down smile around.
Just a sad empty man
who felt he shouldered the world.
Years have come and gone
his life seemed to fade away.
Lines of age wrinkled him
to a forgotten figure.
No joy ever entered this life
of the man who shouldered the world.
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Perfect World
In my perfect world
The sky is a perfect blue
The grass is a soft green
And together are me and you
In my perfect world
The sun is a perfect heat
No global warming
It would be a treat
In my perfect world
There would be no disease
The flowers would bloom everyday
And no one would cut down trees
In my perfect world
No one would be poor
The streets paved with gold
Silver for the floor
In my perfect world
Death would never come
Pain would go away
And no one would be dumb
In my perfect world
The government would not rule
We’d chose for ourselves
What we thought was cool
In my perfect world
Racism would not exist
Discrimination would be over
And nothing would end with fists
But then I remember
I can’t believe it’s true
But my world really is perfect
Because I spend it with you
The Perfect Playmate
Roger Charles Noel Bellingham. Before Ypres, March 4th, 1915
The Perfect Playmate, whither does he stray
That now no more his feet come up this way
That rang so blithe upon the nursery floor?
Wild games and laughter! Now the little son
Listens and longs, and his small world's undone.
The Perfect Playmate will return no more.
Who else made holidays of rainy days?
Who told such marvels by the firelight blaze?
King of misrule when Christmas frosts were hoar.
But now the black-gowned mother's tears will flow
Whether her little son be good or no.
The Perfect Playmate will return no more.
Who built the sands, dug deep, was never loth
Nor ever tired: was strong enough for both:
Home on his shoulders a small drowsy head bore;
Was ever smiling. The boy keeps apart
A gay young smiling father in his heart.
The Perfect Playmate will return no more!
No more, no more! Himself a boy he goes
Beyond the uttermost peaks, the eternal snows:
Light on his young brown head from an open door.
His youth unwithered, smiling all the way,
Into the land of youth, the Spring of Day.
The Perfect Playmate will return no more.
poem by Katharine Tynan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Birth
he was born on a dark lonely night
and not a soul was in sight.
his mother was driving home
on that starry night, when she started
to feel the contractions.
she knew right then that she would
have to take action.
she pulled alongside that old country road
and her stomach she did hold
.
when she felt that waterbag bust
and in GOD she put her trust.
she asked the LORD what she should do
for she knew not what to do.
she heard a voice so soft and gentle
that told her to stay calm.
for this was a special child
that would be born this night
and that everything was going
to be allright.
she pushed the front seat back
as far as it would go
and took off her clothing so
that she could see.
the pains became so severe
and a head did appear.
she pushed with all her might
so that this child could be free.
for this was the way
it was meant to be.
as the child started to come out
from her lungs came a shout.
this child came out with such ease
and she felt a gentle breeze
as if it was a whisper upon her face
and she knew it was through GODS grace.
with a penknife she cut the cord.
and cleaned him up the best she could.
she wrapped him within her coat
and put the heater on
and drove back to a distant farm.
when she got to the farm
and banged upon the door.
when no one answered
she knealt down on the floor.
again she called upon the LORD
and asked what she should do.
he told her to look towads the barn
for there was a light as bright as day
and the farmer was baling hay.
as she got to the barn door
she collapsed in sheer exhaustion.
when she finally opened up her eyes
on the hay she did lay.
and beside her lay her child.
and the farmer told her she was
out for quite a while.
but the ambulance was on the way
and that he could not move her
in fear of jeopardizing her life
and that she was cleaned up
by his lovely wife.
now the farmers wife was
a religious woman
who believed that nothing
happens by chance.
and at this child she did glance.
she said that he had an aura
of light above his head
just like the bible which she had read.
she looked at this childs mother
and asked her this:
'is this coincidence or is this
a sign from above
that he would be in a barn
like christ was in the manger?
she recalled that gentle voice and
what it had said.
that a special child would be born on this night.
now you tell me.
was she wrong, or was she right?
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Alive Again
I'm all alone,
It's dark in here,
And for some reason,
I'm filled with fear,
All I remember,
Is walking 'cross the street,
And the bright headlights,
That knocked me off my feet,
I'm in so much pain,
I see a white light,
The light's so warm,
And so bright,
I start walking,
Towards the light,
But then I hear,
A familiar voice,
More start to join it,
They plead in my ears,
They tell me to stay,
With them now here,
I start to walk back,
The pain is intense,
But I don't want to leave,
I want to stay here,
I see someone now,
She holds out her hand,
I can't see her face,
But I do trust her,
I grab her hand,
She leads me away,
I see another light,
It's softer this time,
We stop at the light,
I want to walk through,
The bright light it beckons,
But I don't want to go,
She doesn't come with me,
But I see her face,
She's an old friend,
That died before me,
I tell her goodbye,
She smiles and waves,
I walk through the light,
And everything fades,
I open my eyes,
A friend's holding my hand,
They seem so relieved,
I'm alive again.
poem by Kelly Aragon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Upon the mountain's distant head
Upon the mountain's distant head,
With trackless snows for ever white,
Where all is still, and cold, and dead,
Late shines the day's departing light.
But far below those icy rocks,
The vales, in summer bloom arrayed,
Woods full of birds, and fields of flocks,
Are dim with mist and dark with shade.
'Tis thus, from warm and kindly hearts,
And eyes where generous meanings burn,
Earliest the light of life departs,
But lingers with the cold and stern.
poem by William Cullen Bryant
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Perfect World
In a perfect world,
Death would never be.
Life would be forever
And last eternally.
In a perfect world
You'd still be by our side,
Lighting up our happy lives.
You never would have died.
In a perfect world,
Sadness would not be found.
Love and life, and happiness
Forever would abound.
We Believe that perfect world
Awaits us when we die.
A world where eternal bliss
Is found in Heaven's sky.
We'll cling to faith and hope,
For God is a God of love.
And then in time we'll join you
In that perfect world above.
poem by Ron Tranmer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Gavotte
(Old French)
Memories long in music sleeping,
No more sleeping,
No more dumb;
Delicate phantoms softly creeping
Softly back from the old-world come.
Faintest odours around them straying,
Suddenly straying
In chambers dim;
Whispering silks in order swaying,
Glimmering gems on shoulders slim:
Courage advancing strong and tender,
Grace untender
Fanning desire;
Suppliant conquest, proud surrender,
Courtesy cold of hearts on fire---
Willowy billowy now they're bending,
Low they're bending
Down-dropt eyes;
Stately measure and stately ending,
Music sobbing, and a dream that dies.
poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!