as time and tide coincide
ripp[l]ing surface sheen
Drops plop for set scene
haiku by Jonathan Robin (24 October 2006)
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Related quotes
Millions of water drops
drops of water
millions of drops
Falling down the rocks
Millions of water drops
Glittering in the sun
Shining like pearls
Millions of water drops
Ending as a river
Finding way to ocean
Millions of water drops
Creating childrens happiness
Laughter and joyfullness
Millions of water drops
Soon will tide reach
White long shores
Millions of water drops
Animating Waves
into forming caves
Millions of water drops
splittering from above
till reaching top of the hill
Millions of water drops
Without them no sound
No whispers of the living
Millions of water drops
Watch the clearness
From crest to earth
Millions of water drops
For tribe’s best
Beware of waste
Millions of water drops
Treasured should they be
As belonging to all humanity
(march 2008, Switzerland)
poem by Morhardt Carmen Mencita Monoi Angel
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Secrets Slipped
Blocked, clocked and watched.
Spied upon and sniffed!
Even during toilet visits...
Some are made to feel,
They are revealing secrets slipped.
With a plop that drops in a fizz.
Suspicions become more of an interest,
When done!
Than that business after conducted,
From the one that does it is!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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War - 0065 - Initial Version
With world at war the waisted women pale,
drops of wasted water plop without a pail.
Civilians weep and wail while harms assail,
physicians, profiteers, have arms for sale.
(23 March 1975)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Rain drops fall from heaven
Tears swelling up in my eyes every night
Rain drops fall from heaven
Simply a walking disguise in the light
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wondering when i will be alright
Rain drops fall from heaven
Growing so weak no energy to fight
Rain drops fall from heaven
Losing all hope in my mind
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wishing that i could simply unwind
Rain drops fall from heaven
As time goes love makes me blind
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wishing i didn't have to leave her behind
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wanting to make everything right
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wishing i could see her in sight
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wishing I had the strength to fight
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wishing i could hold her tight
Rain drops fall from heaven
Never knowing if she remembers me
Rain drops fall from heaven
Never know if we were meant to be
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wishing i had more time to see
Rain drops fall from heaven
My family that always loved me
Rain drops fall from heaven
Thinking back to the times we had
Rain drops fall from heaven
Smiles and laughter but yet so sad
Rain drops fall from heaven
Just sitting here all alone
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wishing i was way back home
Rain drops fall from heaven
Now the only thing that is on my mind
Rain drops fall from heaven
Is the memories i have way back in time
Rain drops fall from heaven
The tears from my eyes and deep inside
Rain drops fall from heaven
Matches the drops that come from the sky
Rain drops fall from heaven
If you could even begin to wonder why
Rain drops fall from heaven
It is simply those tears from lies
Rain drops fall from heaven
Every time it rains i stare to the clouds
Rain drops fall from heaven
Hoping one day she will simply fall
Rain drops fall from heaven
Right into my arms where she belongs
Rain drops fall from heaven
So that i can sing her a song
Rain drops fall from heaven
A song that tells her how i feel
Rain drops fall from heaven
A song that is nothing but real
Rain drops fall from heaven
That will be the day that will bring me joy
Rain drops fall from heaven
Too bad it wont happen to this boy
Rain drops fall from my eyes 24/7
poem by Joshua Thomas Gage
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Love A Duck
Mammy duck leaves the bank,
Baby ducks follow plop plop,
Daddy duck rear guard
Safe from the predators.
Sadly the little ones are
Easy pickings for the eels,
Grow little ones grow very fast,
Then you will be too big for the eels grasp.
poem by Ken e Hall
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A Cold Grey Wintry Day
On this cold, gray-wintry day,
The sun is nowhere to be found.
Listen! I hear the rain:
Pit pat, pit pat—dripppppp, plop.
Pit pat, pit pat—dripppppp, plop.
Like a sad song, its music play
To the melancholy lyric of:
“A Cold, Gray Wintry Day.”
poem by Walterrean Salley
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My Boy Jack
1914-1918
'Have you news of my boy Jack?'
Not this tide.
'When d'you think that he'll come back?'
Not with this wind blowing, and this tide.
'Has anyone else had word of him?'
Not this tide.
For what is sunk will hardly swim,
Not with this wind blowing and this tide.
'Oh, dear, what comfort can I find?'
None this tide,
Nor any tide,
Except he did not shame his kind-
Not even with that wind blowing, and that tide.
Then hold your head up all the more,
This tide,
And every tide;
Because he was the son you bore,
And gave to that wind blowing and that tide!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Have You News of my Boy Jack?
'Have you news of my boy Jack?'
Not this tide.
'When d'you think that he'll come back?'
Not with this wind blowing, and this tide.
'Has anyone else had word of him?'
Not this tide.
For what is sunk will hardly swim,
Not with this wind blowing and this tide.
'Oh, dear, what comfort can I find?'
None this tide,
Nor any tide,
Except he did not shame his kind-
Not even with that wind blowing, and that tide.
Then hold your head up all the more,
This tide,
And every tide;
Because he was the son you bore,
And gave to that wind blowing and that tide!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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LIVE and In Color
If an attractiveness,
To leap over a cliff is wished.
There is nothing that is going to stop...
The splattering that occurs,
When the impact of the plop
Spreads after it is dropped!
Prepare yourself with a hose.
Since this job to clean,
Is too big for a mop...
To impose on this scene.
Make sure the event,
Provides brilliant TV coverage...
Over the airwaves sent!
This is a nailbiter begging to be captured.
LIVE and in color!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Right to Decide
As either each with Fate must meet
R endez-vous as time and tide
I n synch are meant to coincide,
G rief leave behind, or, karma greet.
H ear arguments none should delete.
T he right inalienable to decide
T hus sane need to retain worldwide.
O ne should not days or months repeat
D ire pain, before dread winding sheet
E ats up all energy inside.
C omfort who curtains draws. Abide
I n conscience by choice to complete
D eath's call when inner voice can choose
E xit that none should dare refuse.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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I was a little nervous coming in mostly because my first scene was with Martin Sheen, who I'm a huge fan of.
Trinckle, Drops
TRICKLE, drops! my blue veins leaving!
O drops of me! trickle, slow drops,
Candid, from me falling--drip, bleeding drops,
From wounds made to free you whence you were prison'd,
From my face--from my forehead and lips,
From my breast--from within where I was conceal'd--press forth, red
drops--confession drops;
Stain every page--stain every song I sing, every word I say, bloody
drops;
Let them know your scarlet heat--let them glisten;
Saturate them with yourself, all ashamed and wet;
Glow upon all I have written, or shall write, bleeding drops; 10
Let it all be seen in your light, blushing drops.
poem by Walt Whitman
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Time granted does not necessarily coincide with time that can be most fully used.
quote by Tillie Olsen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Flippity Floppity Plop
am sitting by the side of a pond,
the fresh morning crisp,
full of new born oxygen,
waiting to meet my lungs
am sitting watching still waters,
the liquid surface glassy,
thin like gossamer,
unbroken by bulbous eyed frogs
am sitting inhaling the silken fog,
the moist sweetness enlivening
wispy blanket around,
wrapping me in my thoughts
am sitting listening to birds,
deep distant sounds,
some quarreling, others singing,
my eardrums playing along
am sitting giving nature company,
lilies quietly rubbing their eyes
lazy morning stretching her arms,
sunlight plucking his guitar
am sitting by the side of awe,
when a cheery little fish
breaks through the surface
and flips me a good morning plop
poem by Prathap Suthan
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A Tub of Potatoes
My grandmother used to say
don't marry for money
but stay open-minded.
She could squeeze a nickel
and make the buffalo feel light-headed;
she could make a dollar out of 15 cent.
Now she was a big woman;
ruled the family roost
with a simple look
and an iron skillet.
Many times I heard that skillet
go thunk!
Another suitor educated.
Another boyfriend righted.
She always took us kids aside
and whispered things like
'now see that'
I don't want you kids to grow up
and do things like that.'
There was the woman or man who did not
take care of the family;
the Boyfriend Rogue;
or the Gallivant,
who tipped behind his ladies back;
the dandy who dressed so well
but did not have two dimes to rub together
and slept in the park in a tent.
These were depression days
when traveling men
rode the rails
not sure of where they came from
not sure of where they went
and the women who
longed for them;
who waited
for them
listening
for train whistles
and stock yard
freights
hauling
into Chicago
from the mid-west.
Grandmother
would sit
above a tub of water
peeling potatoes
like the layers of her life
each skin
would fall into the tub
of water
and go plop;
another chapter in Grandmother's life
told to us kids
sitting
wide-eyed.
'Time was' she would say
that this was a woman and man's country
now everything gone to hell.'
They danced in the gin joints
til then the money ran out
and the party was over
and the big depression gave them all
a big headache.
Party she said but dig down deep because
there will be a piper to pay.
Plop. Plop
Time was.
Time is.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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To Stale And Flatten
Racism tried to divide,
Apparently sliding on the downslide.
And that...
Is on the brink,
Of failure.
Corruption and deceit?
Even the ones once disbelieving...
This could not be a possibility,
Now find it as common...
As seeing 'For Sale' signs,
On every street.
And those failures?
They too are complete.
People are discovering,
Dishonesty is not the way to live.
Especially today...
When the value of their standards,
Have popped their corks.
And left their minds fizzed,
Out.
To stale and flatten.
And to leave them scattered about.
Plop, plop, fizz, fizz...
No relief comes to the times that give,
To all that sat unaccepting what is!
An implementation of their own created,
Devastation.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Caribbean Night
Tropical night, starlit, if I recall rightly; there was
sliver of a golden moon also. We drank beer too,
the sea is an enormous waste bin, plop, plop.
Someone brought guitar, nights like this ought to
have music, the gentle murmour of voices stilled.
The guitar player wasn't any good, but for awhile
we sat politely listening to his pathetic attempts.
His friend got up, threw the instrument overboard.
We drank more beer, listened to our own dreams;
mine was about a guitar playing dolphin.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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My Jamaican Guy
Take a toke from the smoke,
Never standing by the door,
Just stretching out pan de floor,
That way him dont fall over,
No way him gwan fall out pan me,
That way him wont fall over,
No way him gwan fall out pan me.
cause hes layed back, not laying back,
Layed back, not worried back,
Layed back, not thinking back,
Layed back, never holding back,
My jamaican guy, my jamaican guy.
When my dread start to sw..
Him no think if it hot nor cold,
We just come in a de riva cold,
Dat way him dont waste him wata,
No way it gwan run out pan him,
Dat way him dont waste him wata,
No way it gwan run out pan him.
cause hes layed back, not worried back,
Layed back, not thinking back,
Layed back, not laying back,
Layed back, never holding back,
My jamaican guy, my jamaican guy.
My j.a. guy.
Take my life for a drive,
Never need to change his tools,
Him drive like a stubborn mule,
Dat way him naw go plop plop,
No way gas gwan bun out pan him,
Dat way him naw go plop plop,
No way gas gwan bun out pan him.
cause hes layed back, not thinking back,
Layed back, not worried back,
Layed back, not laying back,
Layed back, never holding back,
My jamaican guy,
My j.a. guy.
song performed by by Grace Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Scratch The Surface
Scratch the surface serve a purpose
scratch the surface don't waste my time
Such empty life Such simple sheep night after night
herd to the creeps all hidden faults beauty is null
such shallow sight barely skin deep
What is the force that drives the superficial
tell me what keeps their minds remaining little
so afraid of what they'd see underneath the fantasy
so afraid to actually scratch the surface.
All mirrors hide Big money lies faillure inside
big lying eyes that's maybe why eyes are the soul
they take so much time big dollar signs
song performed by by Sick Of It All from Scratch The Surface
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A distillation...
Our poem is a distillation
wrung from common and raw elements
unhusked grains of experience
drops for the journey's flask
caught from barely accessible slopes
of a deep desert well
sweet syrups tapped
from the surface of a long-lived tree
risen darkly from the hidden roots
poetry a hard-won slight reward
preserved, patrolled and guarded
once captured, always held
these works are power for their defenders
like a proof of science
which cannot be unfounded
I laboured most of my life
fifty years and maybe more to learn
to sift so lightly the dirt and stones
and urge to surface from the mass
one translucent gem or two
that could defy for us the vice of time.
poem by Frank Bana
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