Related quotes: Pictures etched to catch, A...

Soaked Streets

Pictures etched to catch,
A depthness then hung...
Shows mist and drizzle drawn.
A forecast of gray clouds,
Displayed above floors of parquet.
And parlayed behind closed doors...
Appears to come to those in conference.
Bearing surreal rainstorms to drench,
Until done!
Although some had eyes sparkling of brightness,
Captured.
Others carried tears,
When they looked away.
Knowing this exhibit conveyed,
Too many reminders.
Too many had known...
They had already walked,
Soaked streets wet with sorrows...
Few knew.
But realism comes.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Smile

A smile
and that was it
she had you captured
and that was

the first time
you saw her
as you climbed aboard
the school bus

that November
and as you took
your seat toward
the back

you carried her smile
with you
and it seeped into
and seemed to enter

every pore
and veins
and artery
of your being

and when you
looked up front
there she was
sitting with her head turned

still gazing at you
and that smile
and those sparkling
blue eyes

and all the rest
of the kids on the bus

seemed not to be
seemed elsewhere
it was (at least to your mind)
just you and her

and that smile
and those eyes
and as you looked away
out of the window

the sun seemed
to make efforts
to shift clouds
to bless your day.

poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No Difference

i stared out the window
at the bare frozen limbs
of my favorite old tree...
i closed my eyes...
saw leaves bud forth
and turn green...
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.

i stared at the young girl
reading at a corner table
i closed my eyes...
and saw an old grandmother
washing dishes with her grandbabies
playing in the floor at her feet...
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.

i saw the young man
carrying his son on his shoulders
i closed my eyes...
and saw an old man standing
by his son's casket
draped by a flag...
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.

i saw an old man
standing on the corner begging
i closed my eyes...
i saw a young boy
playing ball in the street
laughing and dodging cars
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.

i saw a crack head shivering
by an electric heater in a bare apartment
i closed my eyes...
and saw a young a/g student
helping some kid with his math
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.

i saw a desperate girl
walking the streets
looking for a john
i closed my eyes...
and saw a young girl's room
stuffed animals on the bed
pictures of her and her daddy on the wall
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.

i saw a young man
wild-eyed with fear
in a prison cell
i closed my eyes...
i saw a young boy gone hunting
with his grandpa on thanksgiving morn
with his dog by his side
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.

i pulled back the veil of time...
knowing, there is no difference!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Hunter Gets Captured By The Game

Every day brings change,
And the world puts on a new face,
Certain things rearange,
And the world seems like a new place.
Secretly Ive been trailing you,
Like a fox that preys on a rabbit,
I had to get you, and so I knew,
I had to learn all your ways and all your habbits.
Youre the catch that I was after,
I looked up and I was in yout arms,
And I know I was captured.
Whats this whole world coming to,
Things just aint the same,
Anytime the hunter gets captured by the game.
I had laid such a tender trap,
Hoping you might fall into it,
But love hit me with a sudden slap,
Just one of your kisses and baby I knew it.
My plan didnt work out like I thought,
I had laid my trap for you,
But it seems, baby, I got caught.
Whats this whole world coming to,
Things just aint the same,
Anytime the hunter gets captured by the game.
Youre the catch that I was after,
I looked up and I was in yout arms,
And I know I was captured.
Whats this whole world coming to,
Things just aint the same,
Anytime the hunter gets captured by the game.
(? )
Youre the catch that I was after,
I looked up and I was in yout arms,
And I know I was captured.
Whats this whole world coming to,
Things just aint the same,
Anytime the hunter gets captured by the game.

song performed by by Grace Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Strangers Eyes

All alone, a rainy night
No one around but I fell someone watching me
I look around, the street is bare nobody there
I wonder what it could be
As I turned to walk away
Suddenly I saw his face
Never minding that we were alone
Didnt care about the time, at the moment I was felling fine
I was looking into strangers eyes
(he caught me by surprise)
They looked right through me
(he looking into my eyes)
Never knew
Never, ever thought that love could be
(thats when he came)
He came and captured me
Like a scene out of a dream, I cant believe it
Kind of strange and familiar
But in his eyes I get a sign, I get a feeling
I get the feeling he knows me
Maybe I could stay a while, maybe I could make you smile
I dont have much to do
Maybe we could walk awhile
Maybe, maybe we could talk awhile
Cant help looking into strangers eyes
I was looking into strangers eyes
(he caught me by surprise)
They looked right through me
(he looked into my eyes)
Never knew
Never, ever thought that love could be
(thats when he came)
He came and captured me
How was I to know this would happen
Thought I didnt know I would meet this stranger
Its the kind of thing that dreams are made of
And I keep thinking about strangers eyes
I was looking into strangers eyes
(he caught me by surprise)
They looked right through me
(he looked into my eyes)
Never knew
Never, ever thought that love could be
(thats when he came to me)
He came and captured me

song performed by by Vanessa Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hung Up On You

Orbison/melson
Hooked on the touch of your hand, high on how you understand
Lost when you whispered hello ,something in your eyes said dont go
I just had to stay, couldnt go away from you, you knew what to do to get me
Hung up on you,hung up on you,hung up on you,hung up on you
You knew, the first time we met that I could never forget
You held me so close to you, I could never get over you
You were so aware how to make me care and keep me
Hung up on you,hung up on you,hung up on you,hung up on you
Yeah, you got me where you wanted me, I am where I really want to be
Hung up,hung up,hung up on you
Im so hung up on you that I dont know what I would do without you
Oh it will take me forever to get enough of you and I cant help it if im
Hung up on you,hung up on you,hung up on you baby,hung up on you
Hung up on you,hung up on you...

song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rivulets Flow

A soft drizzle flows in runnels,
and clouds above, in souls exist,
travel in dusk, sky's gray mist,
tear droplets in minds channels.

Graceful form, in dusk appears,
from western horizons so ranks,
next to rivers of oblivion banks,
where shadows neglected tears.

Rain rolls in a mentated stream,
bedewed are the faces of dark,
as noble souls observe and hark,
in worlds where belovers dream.

Rivulets flow from mount slopes,
consenting affections none had,
watering blooms in flower beds,
saluting sweet ranges and hopes.

poem by Giorgio Veneto
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chalk

I'm a picture made of chalk
Drawn on the sidewalk,
A white powder
Poured on the black tarmac
And gray pavement.
I'm colored flakes of dust
Pressed into the ground,
Scraping against the rocks,
Carving an image into the surface
Of a parking lot,
Or some other vacant and spacious nowhere.
I'm a picture
Sketched by an innocent and naïve child
Who disappears—
Searching for someplace warm—
When the rain clouds cover the sky.
The rain dampens the streets,
Flushing it to a cool river
Flowing on the cemented pathways,
Guiding the flotsam
To glide somewhere else entirely.
I,
The etched smear of clay-like crumbles,
Soak in the reservoirs
Of rushing rain water
And I melt,
Streaking down the roads
In streams of diffusive tones.
I become a washed-out pool
Of stains.
The floor clears itself of me.
Then the sun comes out,
Crisping all the wet and battered land,
Frying the puddles into an evaporative sizzle,
And I,
The water drenched ash,
Am carried by the heat upward
Into the separating clouds—
Drained of their darkness,
Discharged of their electrical pulse,
And empty.
My illustration is gone,
Waiting to be drawn again
If only the child—
Or someone else—
Would be so inspired
To draw me....

poem by Tim Stensloff
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jesus Walk

The other day I was weeping
The tears kept coming to my eyes
But then I looked out my window
As though pleaded, to look outside.
But my tears just kept falling
Caused by the worries and world outside
As the hate and sin kept growing
From which, no one can hide.
So then I brushed the world aside
As compelled to search the sky
And then; I shook in wonder,
For I saw Jesus, walking at sunrise.
He was walking with out stretched hands
Though reaching for every woman and man
And I, didnt make a sound,
For I was lost, and never found.
I watched him walk with such concern
As He watched the world below
He walked with such shame and pity
My teardrops, began to grow.
And as I watched as Jesus walked
I knew then the Lord did care
No matter how I felt,
I knew Jesus would always be there.
And as Jesus kept walking
I saw sorrow on his saddened face
Was it though for His children and world
Or was it, for their future and fate.
So I just kept watching Jesus
As he looked, and searched the world
Then suddenly; He just disappeared
As though, He was never here.
So then I closed my window
And fell to my knees to pray and cry
Though this time not for the world or me,
But for Jesus, who walked at sunrise.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
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Thought tree

as far the floors
they are now wet so
you don't teleport through
doors sneaking towards
perfection the pictures on
the windows will always
show clouds as i am
hiding beneath gates
always in glass clothes
and there
you
are
to
lit
ever
y mind

(11 July 2008)

poem by Selenaru Negrea
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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She Walked Barefoot...

she walked barefoot,
across them factory floors,
down that gravel road,
across the yard,
and into that old house.

she walked barefoot,
across them kitchen floors,
down that long hallway,
across the floor to the bed.

she walked barefoot,
between them garden rows,
out in the fields,
down through the pines
to the creek.

she walked barefoot,
down them hospital halls,
down the aisles of the church,
out in the cementary
to the grave...

she walked barefoot,
into the arms of eternity,
and i'd give all i am
to wash her feet
with my tears!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ocean Mist, This One Blurs Me, Misty Eyed On The Beach

well here we are,
in the middle of this ocean
of our respective
existences,

you are on your own
now,
i sail too,
this trip of mine
we catch a
glimpse
of the coming rain, the clouds thickening
over the sea
the horizon blurring
with mists,

like cold smoke
rising from the ice
of our glass filled
with sparkling
wine

we are in this foggy
part of
our thinking
you puzzle me
i like to think some more

who can you be
now infected by
yours truly
writing poetry
as you hide
in the thick ocean mist

blue haze
above salt
reducing
visibility

let nature spray some more
mist
like perfume in her handkerchief

dim like some dead stars
and darken
this universe
obscure the moon
blur my senses
i will try
seeing you
and your shadow
sweet
to my expectancies
of a disciple
draining some thoughts
of your past

let the mist of ignorance
dissolve in sunshine
let the haze of our eyes
clear a little bit
with our touch
to the truth
suspend impression
like liquid in gas

pour more liquor
over cracked ice
so i can have a
good sense of
your blue mist

a vaporizer can do more
adding moisture
to the air we want
to breathe
these harsh times
rain in very fine drops;

drizzle, do not fizzle
diffuse yourself finely
like a jet of water

replacing what humanity
lost

let us moisten with mist
this dryness of our
own distant worlds

ocean mist
i have a name, it is put alive
in the serving of
ice cubes on clear glass
soon hear the voices
of cracks

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Doors

She always feels doors are closed to her,
an outsider, too timid to knock.
Her brother just glides through them
as though they don't exist
and her friends hammer at them,
proclaiming their entrance with fizz.

Some doors, of course, are best left shut,
they hold unwanted demons
that will spark off heaps of troubles
and some are best ignored
for beating at them
will just result in tears.

My door is a bright yellow, easily seen.
It's open to friends and closed to enemies.
It has a big letterbox for greeting cards
but not for bills
and a DO NOT DISTURB sign
for salesmen and the weird.

Doors keep you warm in winter
and cool in summer,
they may protect you,
but sometimes hem you in.
Doors are two way streets,
or dual carriageways.

poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Visual Vampire Romeo

When the sparkling princess
Walked into the rose garden
On this cool autumn night
Something didn't feel right

When nightfall descended
With a veil of cool mist
There was no moon in sight
A vampire bat took flight

I looked through the mist
He just couldn't resist
This visual vampire romeo
Called out to me
Hey baby!
You want to ride with me
I only laughed

Knew he wanted my blood and soul
Showed him my new glow
From golden sun magic
Uncovered my hair
Threw off my wrap
His disappearance was fast
As the ghost of christmas past

poem by Rachel Nichols
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Autumn In July (rated in group)

It was a cool July and it was dusk.
The gentle winds that blew,
brushed the Autumn of your hair.

And a mist, as like in Autumn, touch
your face, as I stood still.

I could not help but wonder, as in Autumn,
are the bees yet in their hive; snuggled
closely, in their Autumn winter bed.?

An Autumn sun, hid behind the clouds above.
It knew not of this July, only of Autumn, in the air.
It knew of flowers drooping, their brightness,
now fading and curled. It knew of falling leaves,
and colors still so bright. A lone tree against a colored
sky, seemed naked in this July. With all of
this, and some to go, it must be Autumn, for this I know.

What of the woman, with the hair of Autumn?
Her eyes of Autumn color and colored clothes
the same. It can not be July, for
Autumn is abound.

Autumns every where. Circling sparrows in sky
above, swoop down, in hunt, for the final seeds
of Autumn. How could this be July,
or have the sparrows lost their way?

Surely, this is Autumn, for the chill is in they air.
And, isn't that an Autumn grass, below that
old oak tree? As the gentle Autumn winds,
carry silence for the day.

Now the mist of Autumn, are falling drops of rain.
No, not a shower in July, but an Autumn day,
now cast in gloom, against a steel gray sky.

Autumn, shall never be the same, since
that Autumn day in mid July.

poem by Joe Fazio
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mid July? Or Not