Why Are You So Sensitive?
I did not say one thing about your diet.
Do not try to throw that guilt trip on me!
What I did say was 'perhaps'
The grass is not getting enough Sun.
And when we pass the flowers...
Had you noticed the petals folding inward,
As if night has fallen!
Why are you so sensitive?
All I asked you was 'if' you had heard,
The sounds being made by crickets?
I might be mistaken.
But you have to admit,
You do see the fireflies?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Grapefruit Diet
Whos that waddlin down the street
Its just me cause I love to eat
Fudge and twinkies and deviled ham
Whos real flabby? yes, I am!
Every picture of mes
Gotta be an aerial view
Now my doctor tells me
Theres just one thing left to do
Grapefruit diet (diet!)
Throw out the pizza and beer
Grapefruit diet (diet!)
Oh, get those jelly donuts out of here
Grapefruit diet (diet!)
Might seem a little sever
Grapefruit diet (diet!)
Im gettin tired of my big fat rear
Blow, fatty!
Well, I used to live on chocolate sauce
Made sumo wrestlers look like kate moss
Walked down an alley and I got stuck
I got more rolls than a pastry truck
When Im all done eating
I eat a little more
When I leave a room
First I gotta grease the door
Grapefruit diet (diet!)
Cant have another eclair
Grapefruit diet (diet!)
I gotta decrease my derriere
Im on a grapefruit diet
Im on a grapefruit diet
Im on a grapefruit diet
No more pie now
No more creme brulee
Lay off the gravy
And souffle
No french fri-yi-yies now
No ice cream parfait
Mr. cheese nacho
Stay away
Oh I think Id sell my soul
For a triple patty melt
But I need a boomerang
When I put on my belt
Grapefruit diet (diet!)
Lay off the 3 musketeers
Grapefruit diet (diet!)
Until my big booty disappears
Grapefruit diet (diet!)
Eat em till theyre comin out of my ears
Grapefruit diet (diet!)
cause I havent seen my feet in years
Im on a grapefruit diet
Im on a grapefruit diet
Im on a grapefruit diet
I think Im about ready for a quarter pounder with extra cheese
I need a side order of onion rings
And dont forget to super-size that
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If Flowers Turn
Flowers for a girl who was placed in the dark
Flowers from a world that had taken her heart
They looked so pretty, but the blood stained them
If flowers turn
Throw them away, throw them away
If flowers turn
Throw them away, throw them away
Pull the braids untie all of the pain from your hair
Don't let the buzzards try or they'll take what's been there
Signs appear, and the worst you fear
If flowers turn
Throw them away, throw them away
If flowers turn
Throw them away, throw them away
Don't look to the dark all of the pain that you want is here
Uncover your heart so the feeling can disappear
The worst winds are calling, they need you they want you
I'm in the dark and I can see a thing for miles
If flowers turn
Throw them away, throw them away
If flowers turn
Throw them away, throw them away
I know, I've seen the pain in your heart
Because I died for us
song performed by by Ours
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Craftsman
I was asked to do a reading!
And at one time I did them free.
But don't 'expect' for me to do them...
Without offering a fee!
What I do is a skill!
Like teaching or carpentry!
And when I am approached by churches?
They throw that guilt trip...
And exposure thing on me!
And IF their ministers get paid,
To deliver 'the word' from God?
I think they misunderstand my 'gift'!
Since 'this' what they ask from me...
Has been directly given The Master's nod!
And the God that 'IS'...
Has blessed me with my 'gift' to get paid!
And 'if' that is not something that is understood...
From 'me' those who don't agree,
Will get 'shade'!
Is it believed an electrician,
Will turn on the lights...
If an agreement of payment is not made?
Laugh if you wish!
But I am a craftsman at this!
I have skills.
And for them one has to pay!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Skip Your Trip
Skip your trip.
And admit to it.
Just seal your lips.
And listen a bit.
Skip your trip...
And listen to what's been said.
It's okay to make mistakes.
People have done that everyday.
But it's not okay...
Just to turn and walk away.
It's okay to make mistakes.
People have done that everyday.
But it's not okay...
To believe your way is 'the' way.
Skip your trip.
And admit to it.
Just seal your lips.
And listen a bit.
Skip your trip...
And listen to what's been said.
No one has to disrespect,
An opinion that they don't accept.
Because it's something they wish not to hear.
No one has to get upset.
To later find they have regrets.
When all they had to do is comprehend.
And everybody says that this is wished.
But patience slips from them real quick.
And brooding attitudes are left to share.
Everywhere the frowns are there.
Skip your trip.
And admit to it.
Just seal your lips.
And listen a bit.
Skip your trip...
And listen to what's been said.
Skip your trip.
And listen up a bit!
Skip your trip.
And listen up a bit!
Skip your trip.
And use your head instead!
Oh...
Skip your trip.
And listen up a bit!
Skip your trip.
And listen up a bit!
Skip your trip.
And use your head instead!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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With the Crickets Gone
Crickets make
The night sounds sweeter.
It's hard to replace
Their usefulness.
Just like moonbeams,
In eyes and dreams.
Without that magic...
Where would romance find meaning?
Where would romance go,
To await times to unfold?
And how...
Could we keep that rock to our boat?
With the crickets gone,
How could we stay afloat.
Crickets make
The night sounds sweeter.
It's hard to replace
Their usefulness.
Just like moonbeams,
In eyes and dreams.
Without that magic...
Where would romance find meaning?
Where would romance go,
To await times to unfold?
And how...
Could we keep that rock to our boat?
With the crickets gone,
How could we stay afloat.
With the crickets gone,
Could we keep that rock to our boat?
With the crickets gone,
How could we stay afloat.
With the crickets gone,
Could we keep that rock to our boat?
With the crickets gone,
How could we stay afloat.
With the crickets gone,
Would we then become remote.
With the crickets gone,
Could we keep that rock to our boat?
With the crickets gone,
How could we stay afloat.
With the crickets gone,
Could we keep that rock to our boat?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To A Sacred Place
on the last day of June all the petals have fallen on the ground
but there is a hill in the place of sanctity where flowers begin to bloom
i am walking up there to see this diversity
when the petals go and leave no trace
when in another place flowers bloom without our notice
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Indian Upon God
I PASSED along the water's edge below the humid trees,
My spirit rocked in evening light, the rushes round my knees,
My spirit rocked in sleep and sighs; and saw the moorfowl pace
All dripping on a grassy slope, and saw them cease to chase
Each other round in circles, and heard the eldest speak:
Who holds the world between His bill and made us strong or weak
Is an undying moorfowl, and He lives beyond the sky.
The rains are from His dripping wing, the moonbeams from His eye.
I passed a little further on and heard a lotus talk:
Who made the world and ruleth it, He hangeth on a stalk,
For I am in His image made, and all this tinkling tide
Is but a sliding drop of rain between His petals wide.
A little way within the gloom a roebuck raised his eyes
Brimful of starlight, and he said: The Stamper of the Skies,
He is a gentle roebuck; for how else, I pray, could He
Conceive a thing so sad and soft, a gentle thing like me?
I passed a little further on and heard a peacock say:
Who made the grass and made the worms and made my feathers gay,
He is a monstrous peacock, and He waveth all the night
His languid tail above us, lit with myriad spots of light.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Desertion
So light we were, so right we were, so fair faith shone,
And the way was laid so certainly, that, when I'd gone,
What dumb thing looked up at you? Was it something heard,
Or a sudden cry, that meekly and without a word
You broke the faith, and strangely, weakly, slipped apart.
You gave in - you, the proud of heart, unbowed of heart!
Was this, friend, the end of all that we could do?
And have you found the best for you, the rest for you?
Did you learn so suddenly (and I not by!)
Some whispered story, that stole the glory from the sky,
And ended all the splendid dream, and made you go
So dully from the fight we know, the light we know?
O faithless! the faith remains, and I must pass
Gay down the way, and on alone. Under the grass
You wait; the breeze moves in the trees, and stirs, and calls,
And covers you with white petals, with light petals.
There it shall crumble, frail and fair, under the sun,
O little heart, your brittle heart; till day be done,
And the shadows gather, falling light, and, white with dew,
Whisper, and weep; and creep to you. Good sleep to you!
poem by Rupert Brooke (1910)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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When The Flowers Bloom
when the flowers bloom
do not wait
till they wilt
their petals falling
on your feet
do not take much of the time
witnessing such death
for at the end
of this cycle
when all the petals have fallen
and what is left to see is just an empty sepal
and a very lonely stalk
you shall be reminded of your own
you shall be next, the season waits
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An Intruder 5
But I wanted to be sure so I called my next door neighbor-
Not really a friend, but whose advice I entertain from time to time.
'Look, ' she said, 'there are plenty better things to worry about-
Every day more and more, thanks to people's gullibility,
And the disaster mentality created by the press.
(Daphne is fiercely anti-media) Haven't you noticed?
E.G. the same supplements that were said to promote longevity, yesterday
(And which cost an arm and a leg at the health food store, not incidently)
Now will kill you. Take anti-oxidants, for example. Take vitamin E.'
'Take what? ' I asked, not following.
'Surprise! ' People who take vitamin E die sooner. It's been shown.
The whole thing's a scam, cooked up by the pharmaceutical industry, for...'
I didn't know. But it made sense, now she mentioned it.
'You're sure? '
'Sure.'
'But what should I do? '
'Just eat a balanced diet.'
'I mean about the pigeon.'
'Oh, that. Forget it. I'm glad it's not my problem. I detest pigeons.
There's nothing you can do about it, anyway.'
'Maybe I shouldn't fret it.'
'I didn't say THAT. Just choose your obsessions carefully
so as not to waste time.'
That seemed very fair. 'What do you worry about? , I asked,
Like someone who admitted they needed instruction.
'Right now? The Greenland Ice Sheet. It's melting, ya' know.
Look, gotta run.' Click.
That night there was a terrible storm...
poem by Morgan Michaels
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Unknown Bird
Out of the dry days
through the dusty leaves
far across the valley
those few notes never
heard here before
one fluted phrase
floating over its
wandering secret
all at once wells up
somewhere else
and is gone before it
goes on fallen into
its own echo leaving
a hollow through the air
that is dry as before
where is it from
hardly anyone
seems to have noticed it
so far but who now
would have been listening
it is not native here
that may be the one
thing we are sure of
it came from somewhere
else perhaps alone
so keeps on calling for
no one who is here
hoping to be heard
by another of its own
unlikely origin
trying once more the same few
notes that began the song
of an oriole last heard
years ago in another
existence there
it goes again tell
no one it is here
foreign as we are
who are filling the days
with a sound of our own
poem by William Stanley Merwin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Monologue 1
it was only last night
that i noticed that there were
only two fireflies
lighting the mahogany tree
the other day
they cut the chico
for they need firewood
the little boy once told his mother
that a white fairy lives there
what is the point?
the white fairy owns the tree
and it is only the little boy who believes about this
the chico tree is where the fireflies
sleep in the morning
two fireflies have not accepted
that their dwelling is gone
now they entertain the illusion
that the mahogany
could still be the chico tree
in their own minds.
that is what the legend is.
and you may not believe it.
now that boy does not believe
in white fairies anymore.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sent to Do Post Graduate Work
Those allegations are preposterous.
I am not hear to spy on them.
And I was not aware of their land being fenced.
I am a student doing research.
That is my mission.
'But why the night goggles?
And the various listening devices,
Implanted around their bordered territory...
Designating this as private property.'
I have been sent to do post graduate work,
To study the affects of fireflies...
On the sounds of those made by crickets.
Here...
Please look at and review my passport.
I am clearly innocent of these charges.
'You could have informed the owners and occupants,
Of your task...
Prior to your arrest.'
I tried to apologize.
When I attempted to remove a listening device,
From their roof.
It slipped from my hand and hit their bedroom window.
And 'this' made them suspicious!
'What school do you represent? '
I've taken a few online courses.
All I need is one more to complete my studies.
'Explain this...
Why did you do cartwheels when you saw me approaching? '
I was trying to attract a firefly I thought was losing attention.
Plus I had just finished a 'joint' that gave me an added rush.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Ruined Homestead
White birds, frightened from silver grass,
whose blood-rose breasts and wings are thrown
like petals settling down the pass,
flower the ruined homestead’s stone.
Rise from the fallen walls and scream,
crested, from the stark dead gum;
shatter the crystal of the morning’s dream
where I, across your landscape, come.
Roofless, the broken stonework frames
red arid hills, a valley where
the ghost-gums writhe like whitened flames
and desert-oaks droop their dark hair.
And when, in the crucible of the hills
the molten day has died, there stands
under the blaze of stars that fills
its night, a house not made with hands.
poem by Roland Robinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sitting As If Fresh Flowers
Sometimes the answers,
Are not compatible...
To the questions asked.
When thoughts are uncertain.
But times pass.
And there those answers are.
Sitting as if fresh flowers,
Noticed.
When Sunlight blocked...
Is invited by opened curtains.
Blooming.
Scented and ready to pick.
Sniffed.
By someone wishing to hold them close.
With an understanding of this...
Coming as it does unresisted and quick.
Delighted they are able,
To appreciate them being there.
And their presence somehow,
Now...
Made more aware!
Like the clearing of the atmosphere.
When a polluted sourness,
Is removed from the air.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Perfect Enemy's
You rolled your eye's and I rolled mine back
You talk about me and I talk about you
You act like i'm scared but you know the truth
I try to trip you up, and you try back
There's nothing else to do i math
That class is so wack!
I throw spitballs at your hair,
You push me in the line
I ask the teacher not to yell at me what can i say i tried
Admit it, we are the perfect enemy's you know deep in side
I asked the teacher not to yell at me what can i say i tried.
poem by Kiesha fields
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Happy Child
I saw this day sweet flowers grow thick --
But not one like the child did pick.
I heard the packhounds in green park --
But no dog like the child heard bark.
I heard this day bird after bird --
But not one like the child has heard.
A hundred butterflies saw I --
But not one like the child saw fly.
I saw the horses roll in grass --
But no horse like the child saw pass.
My world this day has lovely been --
But not like what the child has seen.
poem by William Henry Davies
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A Celebration
the flowers open their buds
the crickets sing beneath the grass
the sun is here putting on the lights of this earth.
a rat is dead.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nightsong
Dusk is approaching and encroaching sounds
are finding their way in the air.
When the moon appears in all its glory
the sounds are everywhere.
The crickets chirping, the bullfrogs burping
and locusts that never cease
seem to be singing their night song
as all their sounds increase.
They swell and reach a crescendo
but still can lull me to sleep.
And as the moon drifts away
their song gives way to the day's keep.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Showing her teeth pearls!
I heard some wonderful sounds
floating through the air into my ears;
Is it her anklets made of fine sounds....!
Is it her bangles made such sounds..!
Or is it the sounds of dropped coins;
I am puzzled and turned around,
I could not find anybody,
Suddenly there appeared a beautiful girl,
She came giggling with a broad smile,
Showing her teeth pearls!
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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