Thought Print, Life Print
from time print
comes thought print
and from there life print
and from there
every person's
chance to relive
a million times
easy as the sun rises
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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I've Given In Print
I've given in print,
My sentiments...
On several levels of thought.
I've explained, complained...
And attempted to refrain,
From political or religious...
Ideologies,
I either witnessed...
Or have been taught!
And through the years I've learned,
To myself be true.
No matter what it was,
Others believed I should or could do.
And I do have a hint,
To leave in print...
For anyone feeling,
Similar sentiments.
Be true to 'you'.
It's not easy to do.
However,
With a faith kept that is trusted...
With an honest decision to 'self' that is made,
There will be peaks and valleys lived to experience.
But eventually there is a happiness that comes,
With an acknowledgement that no one is owed...
For those things you've done.
Many can say this.
But to feel inside what is true for you,
That has been done in the doing...
Is a blessing felt no matter who scutinizes it.
And I've been fortunate to mention it in print.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In 1986 we were trying to help women get in print, stay in print, and come to the attention of booksellers and libraries. At that time, books by men mystery writers were reviewed seven times as often as books by women.
quote by Sara Paretsky
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The big print giveth, and the fine print taketh away.
quote by Fulton J. Sheen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The big print giveth and the small print taketh away.
Ugo Print
On Lake Avenue, there is a business owner named Que.
He owns Ugo Print and he has a great crew.
His crew develops, creates and makes a new
your brochures, business cards and letterhead too.
Ugo Print took my artwork and enlarged it for a fair price,
better then Fed Ex, and staff is really nice.
Business cards of mine where printed with a great format,
Ugo Print made it great I can vouch for that.
Embroidery and screen printing Ugo does as well,
they are a full range printing company that does sell,
sell direct mail that makes your business boom,
print with Que who is exceptional and his employees too.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on September 8,2011
www.purplepoems.com www.christinasunrise.com
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One of the reasons I started Tzadik, which is my own label, is to keep things in print. I got tired of labels dropping things out of print when they don't sell.
Not Wanting To Forget
The Modigliani print was on the wall
By the front door. Who’s she? Bridshaw’s
Dame asked, pointing at the print.
It’s a painting by Modigliani, Bridshaw said.
Is he a friend of yours? The dame asked.
Bridshaw pulled a face and said, No, he’s
Dead now. Shame, she replied, stroking
The print, her finger tracing the woman’s
Outline, her tongue hanging out of the side
Of her mouth in concentration. She’s a bit
On the thin side, the dame said, and I don’t
Like the black coat she’s wearing, like some
Darn widow. Bridshaw wanted to get the dame
In bed for sex; the Modigliani print was no
Big deal, he’d bought it in some art shop on
The high street from the guy with the Boston
Tones. Shame he’s dead, the dame said, he
Could have painted me; I would have made
A good model, more meat on me than that
Woman in black, thin as a pole. Bridshaw
Nodded his head, Sure, sure, but you’re too
Late, the guy’s dead, now can we move on,
Get a drink, hit the bed, have sex, and then
A cigarette. Sure, the dame said, moving away
From the Modigliani print, taking the image
Of the woman with her, not wanting to forget.
poem by Terry Collett
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Modesty is reserved
That painting lures me to buy.
I can’t. It would rob my wealth.
Its duplicate costs me one tenth.
Even that I prefer to let go.
I settled with its photo print
For paltry sum I grow not poor by.
Woman bends just to flirt
Like one buying a photo print
13.05.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If you do big things they print your face, and if you do little things they print only your thumbs.
quote by Arthur Baer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If you do big things they print your face, and if you do little things they only print your thumbs.
Don't Shut Us Out
We do not print poetry
The newspaper said
So I burned that paper
Instead
They write about rape, murders and theft
From day to day politics
To the little good will, man does
Are we in a curse
How dare they not print
Our verse
We shall and forever be
A very, very poetic
Society
In our mind, body and soul
So run your papers
Run them in black
Sell them in your box
I'll keep my fifty cents
I'm not coming back
poem by Matt Mondschein
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Between Drags
Between drags
on the cigarette
she muses on
the Rothko print
on Scalpon’s wall.
It took her by surprise
hanging there
beside the front door
almost from ceiling to floor.
The smoke touches her throat
fills her lungs.
Satisfaction sits
on her tongue
like Scalpon easing himself
between her thighs.
The Rothko print
fed her eyes and mind.
She exhales and thinks on
Scalpon’s secondary sex
and watches the smoke rise
as once from the chimneys
of those camps of which
Grandmother often spoke.
She inhales again
picturing in her mind’s eye
the Rothko print
trying to forget Scalpon’s
weird way of making love
upon the table
in the hall
while she studied
the Rothko
hanging on the wall.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gazing At Sunflowers
Your first wife’s friend
came in with her
for a coffee and chat
and you were sitting
on the sofa
with the sleeping cat
and she looked
at the Van Gogh print
of sunflowers
over the mantelpiece
above the open fire
did you paint that?
the friend asked
staring at it
through John Lennon
type glasses
no you said
it’s a Van Gogh print
oh she said
peering closer
I do like flowers don’t you?
Yeah you replied
sunflowers have a way
when Van Gogh
pushes them through
and she stood in silence
taking in the print
and flowers
and colours
and you noticed
she had a run
in her stockings
from the back
of her knee
to where
her thigh disappeared
beneath her drab dress
and your first wife
came in and said
oh you’re not looking
at that painting are you?
He knows all about
those arty types
with their odd ways
and weird eyes
and her friend said
turning round
scratching her ass
I know nothing
of art and such
it’s way out
of my class.
poem by Terry Collett
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My Vote
A single vote may be your victory………..
my vote create the world i live.......a vote that brings my
future near to the distance i see
my vote holds me to achieve..... a reality of my dream to
Conquer, grasp according to my wish
my vote change the chaos i encounter.......a life saving
design of what will be tomorrow of my destiny
my vote wonder every breathe.......a victory to where to
go, beyond uncertain pathways
my vote remember my aspiration.....a longing of joy and
happiness, wonting to know of peace
my vote brings my life......a remembrance of my life of
today, a parting print of my thumbs forever
…..please let my vote be seen, touch and listen for the
wings of the ink, has whisper the truth of what will be
the beginning of history, made this print easy to
count my vote in you is you’re……. victory
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Marcello Jewels
Marcella Jewels is an antique and jewelry
store on Lake Ave.
He has interesting items like a silver knight with metal abs.
He has a print of Marilyn Monroe,
I would like to have it,
I have a smaller print in a postcard though.
Now I sold my ring to Marcello for he gives the best price around,
I had enough money to my cell phone back on.
He also gave me a big book called,
Bicential Times
I remember the Bicentennial
It was in the year I was one year pass the age of nine.
Now, I also worked for Carol
who had a flower shop which was next to his slace,
She now works out of her house,
and slowed down her pace.
Marcello has 2 sweet children and a wife,
I wish them the best and they have a prosperous life.
(By Suzae Chevalier on August 25, 2011)
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Machine made Elegance.
My father wrote in copperplate.
His beautiful calligraphy
I daren’t attempt to emulate
A task that’s well beyond me
Each letter was formed perfectly.
His grammar perfect and his prose.
Time was not a luxury.
Which was a factor I suppose..
My handwritings illegible.
To any one, sometimes to me.
I tend to hastily scribble
my thoughts down as they come to me.
But my P.C has changed my style
I can print out with clarity.
My poetry in a short while.
A blessing it has proved to be.
I was never taught to write
At least not write properly.
But I can print to my delight
and that is good enough for me.
The old ways change and we move on.
Although not always for the best.
Perhaps its sad that time has gone.
Now copper plate is by request.
Computers make it easy to
present hand written poetry.
In any font as we all do.
Which certainly impresses me.
15/10/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Time out of Mind
Losing ping of my mind,
i can't print my future.
Days glistened frustrating me,
on high hopes could not reach,
Sunshine blinks on innocent face,
I who responsible for his future
I try to rescue myself and tired,
if i am to be a sailor,
Sometimes silence and darkness makes thunder,
timed out! timed out! timed out!
So i can't print my future.
-Shaleheen
poem by Musfiq us Shaleheen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We print 37 million copies, and we found out about the unfortunate news as we were putting the issue to bed.
quote by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wise And Good
'O father, I saw at the church as I passed
The populace gathered in numbers so vast
That they couldn't get in; and their voices were low,
And they looked as if suffering terrible woe.'
''Twas the funeral, child, of a gentleman dead
For whom the great heart of humanity bled.'
'What made it bleed, father, for every day
Somebody passes forever away?
Do the newspaper men print a column or more
Of every person whose troubles are o'er?'
'O, no; they could never do that-and indeed,
Though printers might print it, no reader would read.
To the sepulcher all, soon or late, must be borne,
But 'tis only the Wise and the Good that all mourn.'
'That's right, father dear, but how can our eyes
Distinguish in dead men the Good and the Wise?'
'That's easy enough to the stupidest mind:
They're poor, and in dying leave nothing behind.'
'Seest thou in mine eye, father, anything green?
And takest thy son for a gaping marine?
Go tell thy fine tale of the Wise and the Good
Who are poor and lamented to babes in the wood.'
And that horrible youth as I hastened away
Was building a wink that affronted the day.
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Mediocrity or purpose divine.
A poem does not look much,
Just scribbled on any scrap
Of available paper or tissue.
Put it into print,
Give it a title.
All can be revealed
in an instant.
Mediocrity or purpose divine.
A poem does not always
Seem relevant.
Just scribbled with
Errors and adjustments.
Crossed out lines and words.
Does not do it justice.
Put it into print.
Give it a name or two.
All will unfold,
In an instant.
How pompous it all seems,
This little old poem divine
That started off as solely mine.
In a terrible dream.
I escaped to find reality.
.
poem by Peter Vealey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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