Evilties
Evilties sipped,
And poured in discretion.
mmm...
Delicious
And dripping off,
The dastard deeds...
Of secretive quipping lips.
With a satisfaction deemed,
To please and bring to daylight!
There is a darkness intended,
Behind all of it.
These evilties sipped,
And loving to inflict.
Evilties sipped,
With homemade crumpets
Filled with whipped demonicness.
To spread
To lay
In a comfortness.
That does its best...
To infest a digesting of it!
And bringing some to rage,
In a crazed reception.
Idealized with idolized accepting perfection.
mmm...
These evilties sipped,
To lick a peace that ceases.
These evilties completed...
Until everyone at night,
Is startled by nightmares that incite.
And frightens by the sight,
Of imposing disturbing shadows.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
The Night Has Come
i am like an empty cup
the tea i have has been sipped
by you and what i have now is air
specifically
i agree it is your sigh
left by the mark of
you lips.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Merryman and His Maid
[HE] I have a song to sing, O!
[SHE] Sing me your song, O!
[HE] It is sung to the moon
By a love-lorn loon,
Who fled from the mocking throng, O!
It's the song of a merryman, moping mum,
Whose soul was sad, whose glance was glum,
Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye.
Heighdy! heighdy!
Misery me - lackadaydee!
He sipped no sup, and he craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
[SHE] I have a song to sing, O!
[HE] Sing me your song, O!
[SHE] It is sung with the ring
Of the song maids sing
Who love with a love life-long, O!
It's the song of a merrymaid, peerly proud,
Who loved a lord, and who laughed aloud
At the moan of the merryman, moping mum,
Whose soul was sore, whose glance was glum,
Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
Heighdy! heighdy!
Misery me - lackadaydee!
He sipped no sup, and he craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
[HE] I have a song to sing, O!
[SHE] Sing me your song, O!
[HE] It is sung to the knell
Of a churchyard bell,
And a doleful dirge, ding dong, O!
It's a song of a popinjay, bravely born,
Who turned up his noble nose with scorn
At the humble merrymaid, peerly proud,
Who loved that lord, and who laughed aloud
At the moan of the merryman, moping mum,
Whose soul was sad, whose glance was glum,
Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
Heighdy! heighdy!
Misery me - lackadaydee!
He sipped no sup, and he craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
[SHE] I have a song to sing, O!
[HE] Sing me your song, O!
[SHE] It is sung with a sigh
And a tear in the eye,
For it tells of a righted wrong, O!
It's a song of a merrymaid, once so gay,
Who turned on her heel and tripped away
From the peacock popinjay, bravely born,
Who turned up his noble nose with scorn
At the humble heart that he did not prize;
And it tells how she begged, with downcast eyes,
For the love of a merryman, moping mum,
Whose soul was sad, whose glance was glum,
Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
[BOTH] Heighdy! heighdy!
Misery me - lackadaydee!
His pains were o'er, and he sighed no more.
For he lived in the love of a ladye!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Who is dirtied?
When a man sips more than a cup,
polluted are not his own lips.
When a cup is sipped by many lips,
stained is the very cup.
In adultery, a woman is a cup.
She slips from the moral grip.
Patriarchy’s endorsement.
21.12.2000, Bbsr
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Pine
I felt your lips
On mine.
My hands
Cupped your face
For that drink divine.
I sipped you…
Unto eternity.
Yet to quench
That aeon of
Thirst -
From those
Lips of thine,
My heart would
Forever pine.
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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A Straw On A Glass Of Water
from your point
of view
that straw
is disconnected
nothing seems
to be sipped
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Yellow Raven
Music :ulrich roth
Lyrics:ulrich roth
The yellow raven sipped the air
Of thunder and of rain ...
The yellow raven sipped the air
Gentle eyes kissing the rain ...
Where do you go, fantastic dreambird?
Take me away to somewhere
Take me away from here!
Where do you go, fantastic dreambird?
Answer to my yearning
Take me away from here!
The firebird began to cry
When the music died away ...
The firebird began to cry
And smoke was slowly drifting by ...
Where do you go, fantastic dreambird?
Take me away to somewhere
Take me away from here!
Where do you go, fantastic dreambird?
Answer to my yearning
Take me away from here ...
song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gourmet Cuisine
If you can live my life,
Better than I can...
Don't discuss it over dinner.
Or bring it up when eating cake.
If you can live my life better,
Then by all means...
Relate!
My life is not sipped from the finest crystal.
Or prepared on exquisite boned China plates.
Even though I have a weakness,
For gourmet cuisine that's great.
If you can live my life,
Better than I can...
Don't discuss it over dinner.
After eating baked cake you ate.
If you can live my life better...
Don't fake it.
Relate.
My life is not sipped from the finest crystal.
Or prepared on exquisite boned China plates.
Even though I have a weakness,
For gourmet cuisine that's great.
And...
If you're not going to eat that fried chicken wing,
Pass it here I'll take it.
Before my appetite is wasted.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Bedazzled for Days with Love Drops
Dripping my carried full cup sipped.
I want to dance with happiness...
Instead I sit.
I wish to say I am in bliss,
When first kissed and bliss hit me!
I've been goofy with aloofness,
Since our eyes met and gazed!
Dazed as I grin soaking in
The fulfillment that I share,
With one who came and flared my sizzle.
Keeping me bedazzled for days with love drops.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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What Semiramis Said
The moon's a steaming chalice,
Of honey and venom-wine.
A little of it sipped by night
Makes the long hours divine.
But oh, my reckless lovers,
They drain the cup and wail,
Die at my feet with shaking limbs
And tender lips all pale.
Above them in the sky it bends
Empty and gray and dead.
To-morrow night 'tis full again,
Golden, and foaming red.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Adventure must be held in delicate fingers. It should be handled, not embraced. It should be sipped, not swallowed at a gulp.
Ashley Dukes in The Man with a Load of Mischief (1924)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It Takes Some Guts By a Mug Stuck
The battle to be won from things done dumb...
Is the one that has one stung,
By a lover on the run!
What does it take to get a mug stuck,
Out of a rut?
It takes guts,
To never give up!
A fight fought to make things right,
Wont shine a brighter light...
To fly a higher kite.
When tears drip drop,
From eyes at night.
What does it take to get a mug stuck,
Out of a rut?
When tears drip drop,
From eyes at night.
It takes guts,
To never give up!
The battle to be won from things done dumb...
Is the one that has one stung,
By a lover on the run!
What does it take to get a mug stuck,
Out of a rut?
It takes guts,
To never give up!
What does it take to get a mug stuck,
Out of a rut?
It takes guts,
To never give up!
A fight fought to make things right,
Wont shine a brighter light...
To fly a higher kite.
When tears drip drop,
From eyes at night.
It takes some guts by a mug stuck,
To never give up!
And get rid of the pity party,
Sipped from a cup.
It takes some guts by a mug stuck,
To never give up!
And get rid of the pity party,
Sipped from a cup.
It takes some guts by a mug stuck,
To never give up!
And get rid of the pity party,
Sipped from a cup.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Rosebank
From the village of Rosebank the hills look so green
A beautiful country as fine as i've seen
A gem of the mountains on the higher ground
Is this quiet little village with hills all around.
In the Green Frog cafe i go back in time
A bard of the old school sat crafting his rhyme
His long hair and long beard seemed whiter than gray
And he sat in the cafe and wrote every day.
In the 'Green Frog' each morning for an hour or two
He sipped his coffee looking out on the view
He took in the beauty it came out in words
The green of the woods and the songs of the birds.
He sat in the cafe this maker of song
And sipped on his coffee and he thought hard and long
And he gazed on those mountains and song to him came
And he died old and poor though he lives on in fame.
And though the bard for long years has now lain with the dead
His verses survive and by many still read
And the mountains of Rosebank that gave him his rhyme
Are still green as ever unfaded by time.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Drop
Let me take vintage from the looks,
Blue, reddish and deep dreamy,
For transient is the taste of wine,
But a dropp sipped from the eyes,
Intoxicates quality of permanence.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Will It Enhance a Diet Missed?
Brimming of pink,
With a fizz that drizzles.
And sipped,
For taste buds to delight.
And marketed to excite,
Inviting appetites.
We must be appeased by the sight of it,
As it sits.
Although it may have nothing to do,
With a nourishment wished,
Yet not done.
And encouraged we are to drink,
By everyone who runs to get some.
'But...
What is it?
Will it enhance a diet missed?
One insisted that should exist.
If we all, indeed, should be physically fit! '
What is more important?
Your health,
Or conformity?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Deliciously Sipped
Scented mint and lilac drifts...
Rise to crest upon my senses.
As I pinch a piece of peppermint...
From a selected twig.
To twist with lemon peel.
And add for taste to rum I drink.
Deliciously sipped,
I sit back and relax.
To enjoy this treat that enhances a peace.
Increasing within me to allow daydreams.
Nothing more I convince myself of this...
Can be so good!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The frogs [Broaştele]
Up in my poplar moon lays down its nest,
And like a raven night begins to fly.
Its wings throw stars, but these don't get to rest,
They're sipped by frogs, which by the ponds do lie.
Because the frogs engulf such bits of night,
Then in the ponds they dive for having fun,
Stirring the water with their bellies white
In which so many stars melt one by one.
poem by Al. O. Teodoreanu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
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The Happy Couple
There was no better time than this
To share one sweet embrace
And close in gently for that kiss
They both knew must take place.
That's why they danced that very night,
Lost in each other's eyes,
Forwards, backwards and left and right...
Within Love's Paradise!
When they sat down, they sipped their wine,
The best they'd ever known.
That night, each other's Valentine,
The second love was shown.
He held her hand quite tenderly
And softly spoke her name,
As if this love was meant to be,
With both their hearts aflame...
He offered her a diamond ring
If she would be his wife...
To him, this girl meant everything,
The reason for his life!
When she said yes, he kissed her lips...
He danced with her again...
Now tingling to his fingertips,
The happiest of men!
He took her home, the good news spread,
She told her Mum and Dad...
She prayed before she went to bed
And even God was glad...
She dreamt of when she'd be a bride!
The Wedding Day went well...
So many happy people cried,
All captive to Love's spell...
poem by Denis Martindale
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Be Cool, Be Gentle
do not be hard on yourself
creativity is a soft water on the glass
waiting to be
sipped slowly like a lover
waiting in bed
waiting to be kissed
just wait, be cool, be gentle
everything comes without much effort from you
you are so lovely
and love cannot refuse to be loved again.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Judy and You and Chagall
What did you think
of the Chagall postcard print
I bought you?
Judy asked as you both sat
outside the Fox Inn
I pinned it on my wall
you replied
and stared at it every time
I entered the room
thinking of you
she sipped her drink
her eyes searching you
her hair tied behind
in a ponytail
so I gathered
by your letters
she said
putting her glass
on the small wooden table
I missed you
you said
I went to London
while you were away
and saw you
in every girl I saw
even at the ballet
at the opera house
she looked at her glass
I was only away for a week
she said
it seemed a year
you said
you inhaled the cigarette
you were holding
taking in her hair
and eyes and how
her lips moved
as she spoke
Florence was fantastic
she said
I picked out
that Chagall print for you
in one of the art galleries
who did you go with?
you asked
friends
she replied
male or female?
both
she said
you inhaled the cigarette again
and thought of the first time
you kissed her
how the moonlight
shone on her face
as you moved her around
you mustn't be so jealous
she said
I have to see others
who was the guy?
Henrik
she said
you imagined her
and this Henrik
making out
in some Florence hotel
his hands touching her
I thought of you
every moment
you said
that's sad
she said
why?
you said
because no one
should think of another
that often
she sipped her drink
and looked around
at the evening sky
how was Florence?
beautiful
she said
like you
you said
I am like Shakespeare's' lily
she said
as it withers
she added
I see
you said
and you studied
her hands as they lifted
the glass to her lips
the fingers
the skin
the way they held
the glass
did you read my letters
when you got home?
you asked
yes
she said
every single one
my mother said
I must have besotted
some poor soul
and you thought
of the Chagall print
and how you had sniffed it
for traces of her scent
and remembered
your mother's words
nothing is given forever
things in this world
are only lent.
poem by Terry Collett
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Wondring Aloud
Wondring aloud --
How we feel today.
Last night sipped the sunset --
My hands in her hair.
We are our own saviours
As we start both our hearts beating life
Into each other.
Wondring aloud --
Will the years treat us well.
As she floats in the kitchen,
Im tasting the smell
Of toast as the butter runs.
Then she comes, spilling crumbs on the bed
And I shake my head.
And its only the giving
That makes you what you are.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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