All Saint`s Day
A bleached evening, grey
my memory follows me into the cold
the ice records my steps, and peeks
at my afraid progress.
I lay in humility on the damp earth
a priest unable to bear the face of God,
the trees make a lot of noise, the feel as
important as a kestrel in balance with the sky
my face is a forgotten piece of washing on a line
as stupid as a lonely dancer in the wind.
Nothing can be created, all that is holy has been
turned into foulness, gold and silver behind glass.
poem by Leslie Philibert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Sell Me A Coat
La la la la la la la la la la la la la
A winters day, a bitter snowflake on my face
My summer girl takes little backward steps away
Jack frost took her hand and left me, jack frost aint so cool
Sell me a coat with buttons of silver
Sell me a coat thats red or gold
Sell me a coat with little patch pockets
Sell me a coat cause I feel cold
And when she smiles, the ice forgets to melt away
Not like before, her smile was warming yesterday
See the trees like silver candy, feel my icy hand
Sell me a coat with buttons of silver
Sell me a coat thats red or gold
Sell me a coat with little patch pockets
Sell me a coat cause I feel cold
See my eyes, my window pane
See my tears like gentle rain
Thats the memory of a summer day
Sell me a coat with buttons of silver
Sell me a coat thats red or gold
Sell me a coat with little patch pockets
Sell me a coat cause I feel cold
Sell me a coat with buttons of silver
Sell me a coat thats red or gold
Sell me a coat with little patch pockets
Sell me a coat cause I feel cold
La la la la la la
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ricochet
Like weeds on a rockface waiting for the scythe
Ricochet - ricochet
The world is on a corner waiting for jobs
Ricochet - ricochet
Turn the holy pictures so they face the wall
And who can bear to be forgotten
And who can bear to be forgotten
March of flowers, march of dimes
These are the prisons, these are the crimes
Men wait for news while thousands are still asleep
Dreaming of tramlines factories pieces of machinery
Mine shafts things like that
March of flowers, march of dimes
These are the prisons, these are the crimes
Sound of thunder, sound of gold
Sound of the devil breaking parole
Ricochet - its not the end of the world
Sound of thunder, sound of gold
Sound of the devil breaking parole
Ricochet - ricochet
These are the prisons these are the crimes
Teaching life in a violent new way
Ricochet - ricochet
Turn the holy pictures so they face the wall
And who can bear to be forgotten
And who can bear to be forgotten
March of flowers, march of dimes
These are the prisons, these are the crimes
Early, before the sun, they struggle off to the gates
In their secret fearful places they see their lives
Unravelling before them
March of flowers - march of dimes
These are the prisons, these are the crimes
Sound of thunder, sound of gold
Sound of the devil breaking parole
Ricochet its not the end of the world
Thats when they get home, damp eyed and weary
They smile and crush their children to their heaving chests
Making unfulfillable promises
For who can bear to be forgotten
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mother's Hair Has Turned To Silver
Mother's hair has turned to silver
Her skin is all wrinkled and cold
But i'd never trade my mother
For the world and all its gold. Yes her hair has turned to silver
Her face is all covered with lines
But there'll never be another
Like this gray haired mother of mine. I think of all the hardships
I have caused her to bare
Then I can see the reasons
For the silver in her hair. Mother's hair has turned to silver
And her hard working days are done
But there's still a smile on her face
And a love for everyone.
poem by Kenneth Rickard
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Lovers Box
My lovers charms
Are in a box
Beneath my bed
And piece by piece
Ill cherish them
Until the end
Send me an angel to love
I need to feel a little piece of heaven
Send me an angel to love
Im afraid Ill never get to heaven
They burn my hands
Scar my face
And blind my eyes
Ill steal your breath
And throw away
What I despise
Send me an angel to love
I need to feel a little piece of heaven
Send me an angel to love
Im afraid Ill never get to heaven
Between these walls
And darkened halls
Ive done my time
If I should die
Before I wake
Then youll know why
Send me an angel to love
I need to feel a little piece of heaven
Send me an angel to love
Im afraid Ill never get to heaven, piece by piece
Send me an angel to love, piece by piece
I need to feel a little piece of heaven, piece by piece
Send me an angel to love, piece by piece
Im afraid Ill never get to heaven, piece by piece
Piece by piece
Piece by piece, send me an angel
Piece by piece, send me an angel
Piece by piece, send me an angel
Piece by piece, send me an angel
Piece by piece, send me an angel
Piece by piece, send me an angel
Piece by piece, send me an angel
Piece by piece, send me an angel
song performed by by Garbage
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mailbox!
frost on the hawk's wings,
small face against the glass;
or perhaps just a memory,
black coffee and cigarette smoke.
bare limbed trees walk beside me,
down the path to the road....
mailbox hanging open,
only cobwebs in the damp.
the porch light still on,
like a ghostly lighthouse,
calling back things you've forgotten,
that i go through every day!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Silver And Gold
Silver, silver and gold
Silver and gold, silver and gold
Ev'ryone wishes for silver and gold
How do you measure its worth?
Just by the pleasure it gives here on earth.
Silver and gold, silver and gold
Mean so much more when I see
Silver and gold decorations
On ev'ry Christmas tree.
Silver, silver and gold
Silver, silver and gold
Silver and gold
Silver and gold
Silver and gold
Wise men brought gifts to the mange I'm told
Mary was humble to see
Shepherds and kings there on bended knees
It's silver and gold, silver and gold
Feeling the world with their lives
Silver and gold how they shimmer on ev'ry Christmas night
On ev'ry Christmas night
Silver, silver and gold
song performed by by Vanessa Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silver & Gold
Words and Music by Johnny Marks.
Silver, silver and gold
Silver and gold, silver and gold
Ev'ryone wishes for silver and gold
How do you measure its worth?
Just by the pleasure it gives here on earth.
Silver and gold, silver and gold
Mean so much more when I see
Silver and gold decorations
On ev'ry Christmas tree.
Silver, silver and gold
Silver, silver and gold
Silver and gold
Silver and gold
Silver and gold
Wise men brought gifts to the mange I'm told
Mary was humble to see
Shepherds and kings there on bended knees
It's silver and gold, silver and gold
Feeling the world with their lives
Silver and gold how they shimmer on ev'ry Christmas night
On ev'ry Christmas night
Silver, silver and gold
song performed by by Vanessa Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Lover's Box
My lover's charms
Are in a box
Beneath my bed
And piece by piece
I'll cherish them
Until the end
Send me an angel to love
I need to feel a little piece of heaven
Send me an angel to love
I'm afraid I'll never get to heaven
They burn my hands
Scar my face
And blind my eyes
I steal your breath
And throw away
What I despise
Send me an angel to love
I need to feel a little piece of heaven
Send me an angel to love
I'm afraid I'll never get to heaven
Between these walls
And darkened halls
I've done my time
If I should die
Before I wake
Then you'll know why
Send me an angel to love
I need to feel a little piece of heaven
Send me an angel to love
I'm afraid I'll never get to heaven (piece by piece)
Send me an angel to love (piece by piece)
I need to feel a little piece of heaven (piece by piece)
Send me an angel to love (piece by piece)
I'm afraid I'll never get to heaven (piece by piece)
Piece by piece
Piece by piece
Send me an angel... (piece by piece)
song performed by by Garbage
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Theory of Evolution in Islam
The holy Koran supports
Theory of evolution
But it opines that
God has created human at first
In a different way
Since humans are His best creation
The angels took mud from the earth
To God’s main court in paradise
Then God expanded His visible glow
So that the angels can see His body
And make a body like His body with it
But the angels were unable
To make the face
Because God’s body
Is the most beautiful thing
Consequently
God’s body made the face
Of Adam with His own hand
And gave finishing touch
Then he breathed into
Adam’s body a soul
And Adam became alive
Afterward
God created Eve
From a bone of Adam’s breast
By necessary genetic mutations.
poem by Asif Andalib
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Time Passes, Faces Change, The Heart Remains The Same
The face I see
In the looking glass
Is not the face I see
In my heart.
The woman I see
In the mirror now
Is not the girl I see
In my heart.
The face I see
In the looking glass
Is lined with the cares
Of the world,
The hair is silver,
The eyes dimmed,
The face is aged,
And the mouth is thin.....
But the face I see
In heart and memory
Is as radiant, as youthful,
As the day I met you.
Scarlett Treat
January 25,2008
poem by Scarlett Treat
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Obliterated
Some say the world will end in fire
Some say in ice
your lives full of desire
your world turned over twice
i am yet what i am
none cares or knows
The world is lost
in a long forgotten snow
Earth like a raisin in the sun
drying up tears running down its face
Tomorrow ill be at the edge of the earth
a cross traveling overhead
protecting my place of birth
THe flick flick fire licking at edges
A tick tick of bombs hiding in hedges
let it be forgotten the earth turned to ashes
let it be forgotten earth enveloped in trashes
into the nothingness of scorn and noise
who will procure me
Into the land of girls and boys
who will secure me
i remember sounds like that from my childhood
laughter from no cause
i remember towns full of people
from my childhood
bustling with no pause
A wins that wips at my face
a kin that sips at my place
we belong
we belong
Twinkle twinkle little star
Do you see earth from so far
twinkle twinkle little earth
do you see a stars rebirth
My eyes are open
my eyes are shut
i see a trail of tiny duck
my feet are cold
my hands are clammy
i miss my little dog named sammy
what earth once was
is no more my birth once done
is practiced more
so why is it earth has left
No cries are heard
upon a breast
poem by Alexis Gallagher
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rome Unvisited
I.
THE corn has turned from grey to red,
Since first my spirit wandered forth
From the drear cities of the north,
And to Italia's mountains fled.
And here I set my face towards home,
For all my pilgrimage is done,
Although, methinks, yon blood-red sun
Marshals the way to Holy Rome.
O Blessed Lady, who dost hold
Upon the seven hills thy reign!
O Mother without blot or stain,
Crowned with bright crowns of triple gold!
O Roma, Roma, at thy feet
I lay this barren gift of song!
For, ah! the way is steep and long
That leads unto thy sacred street.
II.
And yet what joy it were for me
To turn my feet unto the south,
And journeying towards the Tiber mouth
To kneel again at Fiesole!
And wandering through the tangled pines
That break the gold of Arno's stream,
To see the purple mist and gleam
Of morning on the Apennines.
By many a vineyard-hidden home,
Orchard, and olive-garden grey,
Till from the drear Campagna's way
The seven hills bear up the dome!
III.
A pilgrim from the northern seas--
What joy for me to seek alone
The wondrous Temple, and the throne
Of Him who holds the awful keys!
When, bright with purple and with gold,
Come priest and holy Cardinal,
And borne above the heads of all
The gentle Shepherd of the Fold.
O joy to see before I die
The only God-anointed King,
And hear the silver trumpets ring
A triumph as He passes by!
Or at the altar of the shrine
Holds high the mystic sacrifice,
And shows a God to human eyes
Beneath the veil of bread and wine.
IV.
For lo, what changes time can bring!
The cycles of revolving years
May free my heart from all its fears,--
And teach my lips a song to sing.
Before yon field of trembling gold
Is garnered into dusty sheaves,
Or ere the autumn's scarlet leaves
Flutter as birds adown the wold,
I may have run the glorious race,
And caught the torch while yet aflame,
And called upon the holy name
Of Him who now doth hide His face.
poem by Oscar Wilde
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fields Of Gold
There are fields of Gold behind the little house
Filled with the greatest of treasures
Bronze, Gold and Silver
Do you remember?
Remember our childhood, Our life’s
The shinning Silver sparkling in the skies
The brightest Bronze hidden under the ground
The greatest Gold glimmering through the fields
Can you see them?
Picture it in your mind
All the times we danced
Every time we laughed
Where we used to love
Or have you forgotten?
Forgotten the good, Forgotten the bad
Every memory
Every moment
Every word
I wish you’d remember
To turn back time, So you could take me
Take me to the gold
To the fields on a summers day
To our fields, our treasure
The Silver, The Bronze
The Gold
But the treasures gone
The house still remains
The fields just as empty as the day we left
Times have changed
Our life’s have changed
Our Silver gone dull
Our Bronze all rusted
Our Gold long forgotten
It was never there
The winds of time and turns of the earth have seen to that
But I remember
I cry for the children who found the greatest of treasures and those who lost it so soon after
And I dream of dancing and singing and running and laughter, of the treasures that lie in the fields of Gold.
poem by Carrie Halliday
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Afraid To Face The Fact
The truth of life, the wealthiest health,
The cause of good, a happiest act.
The need of love, the sky above;
We are afraid to face the fact.
The powerless power, the lifeless life,
The truth unspoken, the pain intact;
The nicest of things, the powers of thought,
We are afraid to face the fact.
The skies' a blue, the sound of ‘woo'*,
The rivers have shrunk, the stars react,
The storms noise**; and peoples too;
We are afraid to face the fact.
The rights wrong; the wrongs of right,
The nature of natures; shall keep the pact,
The time has come, the time of flight,
We are afraid to face the fact.
The day, the sun; the night' the moon;
The ‘now' the wealth; the ‘then' the ruin,
The brain the dream; the heart, the act,
We are afraid to face the fact.
*'woo' signifies ‘joy'.
** ‘noise' is used as a verb here.
poem by Osama Waqar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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American Storm
Words and music by bob seger
Headin out on some uncharted path
You soon turn back
It happens time and time again
You never seem to reach the end
Someones out there on the street tonight
When things go wrong
Hell guarantee to make them right
If the price is right
Every time I look youre fallin fallin
Beaten by the wind
Every time I turn around hes there again
Its like a full force gale
An american storm
Youre buried far beneath a mountain of cold
And you never get warm
Its like a wall of mirrors
You charge 'em at full speed
You cover up - you hear the shattering glass
But you never bleed
You never feel the need
Everybody casts a certain light
A special gift
Its theirs to use for wrong or right
When you face the night
More and more we choose the easy way
We take no risks
We figure out which games to play
And how to make em pay
Suddenly the pressures fallin fallin
Skies have all turned grey
Suddenly the storm is heading straight your way
Its like a full force gale
Atop a mountain of cold
You tell your story again and again
And it never gets old
Its like a wall of mirrors
You charge em at full speed
You cover up - you hear the shattering glass
But you never bleed
You face a full force gale
An american storm
Youre buried beneath a mountain of cold
And you never get warm - no you never get warm
You face a wall of mirrors
You charge em at full speed
You cover up - you hear the shattering glass
But you never bleed
You never feel the need
song performed by by Bob Seger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Born Without A Silver Spoon
I was born without a silver spoon.
On a raining day in the month of june.
We lived in a face me and face you,
it was a crowded neighbourhood.
Born without a silver spoon.
To have a three square meal
is like wishing for the moon.
Many times we bed the night,
cold night without food.
Without a silver spoon.
My father struggled me through school.
Primary, secondary and university
education i made it through.
A silver spoon.
My wish which must come true.
For i dream of it everday.
Think about those moves i'll make.
Praying to God for steps to take.
Though i was born without
silver spoon.
Yet if heaven be true,
my family's pain will not be vain.
I was born without a silver spoon
shall be erased.
To my generations it shall be a tale.
And only a silver spoon shall remain.
poem by Enebeli Ifyprada
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Lover & Acute;S Box
My lovers charms
Are in a box
Beneath my bed
And piece by piece
Ill cherish them
Until the end
Send me an angel to love
I need to feel a little piece of heaven
Send me an angel to love
Im afraid Ill never get to heaven
They burn my hand
Scar my face
And blind my eyes
Ill steal your breath
And throw away
What I despise
Send me an angel to love
I need to feel a little piece of heaven
Send me an angel to love
Im afraid Ill never get to heaven
Between these walls
And darkened halls
Ive done my time
If I should die
Before I wake
Then youll know why
Send me an angel to love
I need to feel a little piece of heaven
Send me an angel to love
Im afraid Ill never get to heaven
Piece by piece
Send me an angel
song performed by by Garbage
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Age Makes The Difference
There comes a cold wind blowing on my face
and my cheeks are ruddy red.
It is a cold wind blowing on my face
and my toes feel like they're dead.
But I could stay outside all day
and never think about cold.
For that's exactly how you feel
when you're nine years old.
There comes a cold wind blowing on my face
and my cheeks are ruddy red.
It is a cold wind blowing on my face.
I feel like I am dead.
I need to stay inside today
and look out at the cold.
And that's exactly how you'll feel
when you're ninety years old.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When God created us all, We were not left alone
it is true and i agree completely
when God created us all
we were not left alone
he created the rivers and the seas
to tell us that we must flow and be deep
and be wide with compassion
he created the skies that we may always
look up to the wide expanse of this
unfathomable love, this universe
he created the earth where our fellowmen live
so we all become coals hot with cinders
unsegregated from the fires that burn
within us, lest we become cold and nothing
but ash, blown by the wind and then forgotten.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The battle had passed from the height
The battle has passed from the height,
And still did evening fall;
While heaven with its restful night
Gloriously canopied all.
The dead around were sleeping
On heath and granite grey,
And the dying their last watch were keeping
In the closing of the day.
*
o
+
#
*
How golden bright from earth and heaven
The summer day declines!
How gloriously o'er land and sea
The parting sunbeam shines!
There is a voice in the wind that waves
Those bright rejoicing trees.
Not a vapour had stained the breezeless blue,
Not a cloud had dimmed the sun,
From the time of morning's earliest dew
Till the summer day was done.
And all as pure and all as bright
The sun of evening died,
And purer still its parting light
Shone on Lake Elnor's tide.
Waveless and calm lies that silent deep
In its wilderness of moors,
Solemn and soft the moonbeams sleep
Upon its heathy shores.
The deer are gathered to their rest,
The wild sheep seek the fold.
Only some spires of bright green grass
Transparently in sunshine quivering.
The sun has set, and the long grass now
Waves dreamily in the evening wind;
And the wild bird has flown from that old grey stone,
In some warm nook a couc hto find.
In all the lonely landscape round
I see no light and hear no sound,
Except the wind that far away
Comes sighing o'er the healthy sea.
Lady, in thy palace hall,
Once perchance thy face was seen;
Can no memory now recall
Thought again to what has been?
poem by Emily Brontë from The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë (1908)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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