70s Kids
our young faces
left sepia stains
on ivory paper
there were no flaws nor lines to draw
attention nor depress
just shiney rose hued cheeks which glowed
and purple garish dress
eyes did glint
though there was a hint
of apprehension in our smiles
a missing tooth displayed our youth
orange and umber whiles
wirehaired bodger (dog)
our much loved lodger
who raced with all us kids
came christmas carolling to inrease our treasure
as cash flowed in split lids
potatoe pie
with the chicken bits shy
we would play, spot the chunk of meat
chafing elastic to hold grey socks
ill fitting shoes to beat
hoola hoops, canakers
tomahawks
arms, embraced your bestest friend
knock on doors as mother asked
have you some sugar you can lend?
T rex blast on radiogramme
and the old grey whistle test
cheap lemonade and icecream vans
the seventies were the best......
poem by Karen Sinclair
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Faces
I cant read faces but i can read yours;
I know it when youre sad or happy,
not through your smile but through your eyes;
and the lines of your forehead,
and the lines of your cheeks...
they tell your secrets and then mystery unfolds.
The beauty of your chin...and the lines of your lips,
they tell me of something that hasn't been told.
Sometimes you laugh, but you're empty inside...
sometimes you frown, but your heart glowed with pride.
Sometimes serious, but your face
has something to hide.
I know coz your eyes tell me everything,
everything within your soul.
You have so many faces...
and i wonder if the world knows.
I wonder if they can read them,
or see what you conceal..
I wonder if they can see your mysteries...
secrets to steal.
And i wonder if they can look into
your eyes like open doors.
I know i cant read faces...
but i can read yours.
poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
And then the paper is dirty
You start with a clean sheet of paper
Write some words, scribble, draw some lines
Some curves, sharp lines, tangent to bold
Lines, and rough sketches of faces and
Bodies, thin lines that get crooked from
End to end of this limited space,
You doodle, you get wild with so
Many lines unimaginable, senseless,
The paper finally looks dirty,
And you do not like it, you crumple
It and throw it in a waste basket,
You get another clean sheet,
And this time, you think what is
It really that you want to make
Out of this new clean sheet of paper.
You think, you ponder, and you need
More time this time not to waste
This clean, glossy sheet of paper.
I think you are doing well with your life.
You see you are supposed to be careful
Every word is delicate and every paper
Is actually accounted.
Never mind guilt, set it aside for a while.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Turning Back The Clock
Each day finds me in the spotlight
up above my mirror hung.
Revealing all my blemishes,
which can stop me looking young.
The jaw line is not so taut now,
and eyelids are drooping fast.
I’d hoped to grow old gracefully,
but the job ahead is vast.
Every hour brings on wrinkles,
which seem to be very deep,
The make-up kit cannot conceal,
when the imperfections creep.
I dab on sheer beige foundation,
what’s missing is pencilled in.
Some rosy lips to draw the eye
from the flaws upon the chin.
If I could just keep my distance,
the picture is not a shock.
A pleasant face appears and smiles,
bit like turning back the clock.
But in the garish light of day,
those age lines stand out for real.
For when that spotlight shines on me,
I so need a facial peel.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Bleeding Purple Stains
purple stains.
it never leave sight.
always staring, mocking, eating away.
purple blood stays.
in mind but out of sight.
it never stares but you can feel it.
never mocks but copies.
never eats anything but it still feeds off of energy.
so...i ask a question.
would you rather have purple stains or purple blood.
poem by Danie Burd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Spooky kids...Familiar faces
I see ghosts…
Ghosts in my grand
And grandkid's eyes
I see traces
of my mother and father's faces
In their tears when they cry
There's a ghost
Of Grandmaw's humour
That peeks out when they smile
There's a spooky look
Of Grandpaw's wrinkled face
That pops out once in a while
There's that open grin
That cute cleft chin
That all their uncles had
There's that impish look
My brother took when he knew
He was being bad
There's a haunting hint
A familiar glint in those young eyes
Of faces that I can see
And the scariest part
That breaks my heart
Is that sometimes… they look like me
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Poles apart
Dark sky
Shiney moon
You are what I have
I am what you have
And we are so much in love.
Dark sky shiney moon
You and me from mornin until evenin'
You are what I have
I am what you have
And we are so much in love.
Beautiful dark sky
Stars hanging in there
The moon bright and shiney
You and me together
I am thinking of romance
Watching your hair dance
In the soft wind
While you are staring at the moon
Talking about were-wolves.
02/06/04
poem by Arsiema Berhane
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Color Purple
a friend of mine is obsessed with purple
she says it's a royal color
fits for kings and queens
and she feels like a princess
on her purple hair
her purple dress
and purple bra and
purple shoes
the walls of her house are painted
the railings of the stairs
the windows
the doors are all purple now
the flowers in her garden
and the leaves of her trees
the grass
all purple too
her speech is purple too
the movies she watch are all in the shade of purple
her car turned purple too
royal color that is what she says
i tell her bluntly, ' You are boring, purple! '
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
You are not for me
He is the man with the boyish grin
And the naughty glint in his dark eyes
The one with the dimpled cheeks
And stubborn chin
Yes he is the one who stole my heart
How dashing he looks in his tuxedo tonight
His eyes searching mine
The sudden stubborn hardness of his jaw
Whispering to the beauty at his side
The harsh words with which we parted
He called me a whore
For unwanted attention received
Roses and bouquets thrown at my feet
Still he is the one with a different partner every night
I stand proud for I'm not of his kind
For I love who I am
Who needs a man like that after all?
Men, they're just a waste of time
For now I will enjoy walking the ramps
‘Coz I'm still young
Have the world at my feet
And Aunty May as my chaperone
Dashing as he is
I would much prefer someone who is humble and kind
For now I am contented and at peace
With whom I have become
Roshan Mumtaz
23/06/09
poem by Persian Khushi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Purple Rose Of Cairo
The purple rose of Cairo is in my vase
Blooming away
I am enjoying this rose
The purple rose of Cairo
I know it won’t last long
But that is the perfect gift you gave me
It brightens up my dining room table
Thanks once again for giving me the
Purple rose of Cairo
A rose is so beautiful
It is one of God’s creations
Nobody can make a rose bloom so beautiful than God can
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Charwoman
If only 'twere not Christmas Eve,
Nor bright other places,
Nor loaded the boards I perceive,
Nor happy the faces,
And not so wretched at home,
And none of this whining
And begging for bread when I come
By little cheeks pining
Today for hunger again.
To deeply depress me!
If they, who forget now my pain,
Could see it distress me!
Too listlessly come I and go;
All dirty I never
Must faint in the twilight glow
But toil on forever.
Six children I have to relieve--
How blanched are their faces!
If only 'twere not Christmas Eve,
Nor bright other places!
poem by Carmen Sylva
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
Halsted Street Car
Come you, cartoonists,
Hang on a strap with me here
At seven o’clock in the morning
On a Halsted street car.
Take your pencils
And draw these faces.
Try with your pencils for these crooked faces,
That pig-sticker in one corner—his mouth—
That overall factory girl—her loose cheeks.
Find for your pencils
A way to mark your memory
Of tired empty faces.
After their night’s sleep,
In the moist dawn
And cool daybreak,
Faces
Tired of wishes,
Empty of dreams.
poem by Carl Sandburg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Caramia
Caramia
Blank notebook and a back pocket fade
You used to mock me
Sometimes I would cry
When I was home later
Cause you hurt my feelings
Why why why
(why why why)
You said write it down in your notebook
My wanna be harriet the spy
And some say your genius
(genius)
Is in your madness
(madness)
Will you get better
(will you get better)
And then will you leave us
(will you leave us)
How you mixed with the darkness
At such a young age
(until in your chemistry)
Until in your chemistry
(silence and violence)
Silence and violence
(silence and violence)
Turned silence to rage
(turned silence to rage)
Ah
Why are dreaming this
One shoe off
And a bridge to cross over
And where is your taxi fare
Are you left by yourself
Or left by your lover
(are you left by your lover)
For three nights straight now
I dream I kept both of my shoes
But Ive forgotten my lines
And Ive misplaced my cues
And theres a sea full of faces
And a show to go on
But Im struck mute at entrance
With nothing to draw from
There were the secrets
The big bang and the bigger joke
You seem to know all of them
Thats why injustice makes you red with choke
Yeah but you love like youre desperate
You dont know what love is
(if there was one thing)
And I thought if there was one thing I could give you
One thing I could give you
(if there was one thing)
Well maybe it was this
The head on the bed board
(sadness)
The anguished repeat
(sadness)
The sweat of our sadness
(sweat of our sadness)
And the twist of the sheets
(twist of the sheets)
I dont want whats best for you
Where will I be when youve found it
(where will I where will I)
You know I pray a lot about these bad feelings inside
(where will I where will I be)
I cant pray my way through or around it
Hey
Why are dreaming this
One shoe off
And a bridge to cross over
(and a bridge to cross over)
And where is your taxi fare
Are you left by yourself
(are you left)
Or left by your lover
(by yourself)
For three nights straight now
(left by your lover)
You know I keep both of my shoes
(Ive got bad feelings inside)
But Ive forgotten my lines
(I cant pray through)
Ive misplaced my cues
(I cant pray my way around it)
And theres a sea full of faces
And a show to go on
Im struck mute at entrance
With nothing to draw from
Nothing to draw from
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
At The Turn Of The Road
THE glory has passed from the goldenrod's plume,
The purple-hued asters still linger in bloom
The birch is bright yellow, the sumachs are red,
The maples like torches aflame overhead.
But what if the joy of the summer is past,
And winter's wild herald is blowing his blast?
For me dull November is sweeter than May,
For my love is its sunshine,--she meets me to-day!
Will she come? Will the ring-dove return to her nest?
Will the needle swing back from the east or the west?
At the stroke of the hour she will be at her gate;
A friend may prove laggard,--love never comes late.
Do I see her afar in the distance? Not yet.
Too early! Too early! She could not forget!
When I cross the old bridge where the brook overflowed,
She will flash full in sight at the turn of the road.
I pass the low wall where the ivy entwines;
I tread the brown pathway that leads through the pines;
I haste by the boulder that lies in the field,
Where her promise at parting was lovingly sealed.
Will she come by the hillside or round through the wood?
Will she wear her brown dress or her mantle and hood?
The minute draws near,--but her watch may go wrong;
My heart will be asking, What keeps her so long?
Why doubt for a moment? More shame if I do!
Why question? Why tremble? Are angels more true?
She would come to the lover who calls her his own
Though she trod in the track of a whirling cyclone!
I crossed the old bridge ere the minute had passed.
I looked: lo! my Love stood before me at last.
Her eyes, how they sparkled, her cheeks, how they glowed,
As we met, face to face, at the turn of the road!
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ivory
You were born with a face that would let you get your way
Yeah you had everything you wanted child, that is until the day
you know you're much too fine and free, Ivory
You've been dressed in a vest, every minute of your day
You walk into a room, stand in a lit shade
Is your timer too high for me, Ivory
Ivory
How does it feel to be so high
Ivory
How long how long will it take for you to cry
Ivory
I'm in need
Ivory
Ivory
I'll touch your soul, might even touch your brain
I know you can't see me
I know your blind
Come back come back and see
Ivory
So good to me
Ivory
song performed by by Bob Seger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Simply Lonely
He's lonely
He always is
He just wants the attention
That he never
Receives
Instead he hides
His feelings
In a guise as black as night
He uses red lines
He uses sharp edges
To hide, silently crying inside
They call him a troublemaker
He just wants the attention
That is always denied to him
His mother just sits in her room
Locked up with her boyfriend
Never paying attention
His father is no where to be found
He left years ago
No one can get close enough to see
The class clown
Just wants to have someone's
Undivided attention
To know someone
Truly cares
He's lonely
He always is
He just wants the attention
That he never
Recives
poem by Autumn Winds
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Astonishing And Astounding
My aura is violet tapering off into a soft,
rosy pink - the best explanation for what
is happening, I think; without planning I
browsed and found paper lined in violet,
pink, purple and green
And purple things: a mousepad, glitzy tiles,
a fairy dress - also discovered the softest
pink fleece - the same shade as the rose-
coloured satin throw I had bought for my
mother's bed
Also dug out my purple bag with pink diary
and my pink paper roses - yes, this must
be the colours of my aura, how else explain
everything perfectly fitting together with-
out my planning anything?
Borrowed 7 books from the library, Reader's
Digest ‘Did you Know? - New Insights Into a
World of Astonishing Facts and Astounding
Stories', ‘Space - The Hands-On Approach
to Science'
‘Visual Dictionary of the Universe', ‘Amazing
Facts', ‘Myths and Legends', ‘Symbols, Signs
& Visual Codes'; - best to begin with ‘How to
Improve Your Mind' by Andrew Wright to
prepare for the others
My son complains the book is for juveniles -
well, I'm old enough to be reckoned senile,
so this book is perfect for me - voilà!
Saturday 18 August 2012
poem by Margaret Alice Second
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Bloody Paper Dolls
They bleed an ink of green blood
Cut them out
Faces of drawn misfortune
Bodies of frail dresses
Minds of empty blue lines
Given names of whores from distorted streets
Megan molly Shannon mind so weak
Created world of plagiarized lives
These bloody paper dolls have no eyes
They see not the tears upon her face
They bleed words onto the page
Green ink dripping
Soft words describing a life
Take there heads the lose all purpose
Fixed scissors this time ill make a man
Green ink bleeds from the cut up words
And the body it forms
These dolls aren’t real they are a shaken reality
Let her be she has dreams
And I cut the words from this page
I lost my age
I’m old... and still
I have bloody paper dolls all around
They rule my life
They are my reality
My friends
These words now just letters
Green ink stains my finger tips
My bloody dolls you are it.
poem by Victoria Martinez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Paper Rose
you smell like a rose,
you look like a rose
you have some dew
on the petals of this red,
red rose,
but you do not wilt
until then
i know that you are
this paper rose
this fakery
then you say
you do not fear me
i do not intimidate you
for real
this paper tiger
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Paper And Pen
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Can’t think of anything to say today
Can’t think of anything to do
Can’t think of anything to play today
Minds gone blank
Leaving me here, just sitting here
Listening to my hair grow
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
And I look towards you
For an inspiration or a word or two
I try but I find
Every road only leads me back to these lines
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Piano, guitar
I try but don't get very far
Paper and pen
Piano, guitar
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Copyright Colin Coplin 1985 / 2010
poem by Colin Coplin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Flower To Auroville Mother-40
camellia, (Japanese Camellia
Camellia japonica)
She's not rose but roselike
Fake rose yet so goodly good
Shrubby tall trusty, majestic..
White and red and purple as hued
Added pink she stays authentic
Grey-brown bark she's supported
With shiny greens in soil acidic
Camellia, child of asiatic land
A legend and charismatic lyric
poem by Indira Renganathan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!