Love Poem
There is always something to be made of pain.
Your mother knits.
She turns out scarves in every shade of red.
They were for Christmas, and they kept you warm
while she married over and over, taking you
along. How could it work,
when all those years she stored her widowed heart
as though the dead come back.
No wonder you are the way you are,
afraid of blood, your women
like one brick wall after another.
poem by Louise Gluck
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
The Tower That Ate People
There's a bump in the basement
There's a knocking on the wall
In the pumping of the pistons
I swear I heard you call
There's a bump in the basement
There's a hole in the floor
There's a guard in the garden
Locking up the door
There's a rumble in the floorboards
No shutting out the sound
And the workers down below me
Digging underground
Feel the building all around me
Like a wrap of armoured skin
But the more we are protected
The more we're trapped within
Tell it like it is
Till there's no misunderstanding
When you strip it right back
Man feed machine
Machine feed man
Tell it like it is
Till there's no misunderstanding
You make up what you like
Man feed machine
Machine feed man
?
Brick by brick by brick by brick we're building
Brick by brick by brick by brick we're building
Brick by brick by brick by brick we're building
Brick by brick by brick by brick we're building
Brick by brick by brick by brick we're building
Brick by brick by brick by brick we're building
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Love Blood Tear Heart
LOVE
I love you
I believe you
you made my heart beat
I can't believe it
I'm in love
when I see you
my face turns red
my voice shakes
what can i do?
BLOOD
I can't believe
all was false
you wasn't the truth
I'm heartbroken
my heart is bloody now
somebody help me
let my heart stop
that still beat for him
blood blood
my heart is bleeding
TEAR
what is this warm thing
that flows on my face
Is it the blood?
that overflowed from my heart?
It is tear
no, it is just a salty water]
I can't be crying
I tear my heart
so that it won't beat anymore
It hurts...
not the pain that heart is torn
but the pain i'm betrayed by you
the pain we can't love anymore
HEART
my heart will never beat
my heart will stay cold
and nobody will find me
don't expect me to love you again
I'm not fool anymore
my heart has stopped
my heart has torn
In future i will be able to say to you
'you're just somebody, i forgot you'
LOVE
BLOOD-
TEAR
HEART
Ballad Of Sir Frankie Crisp (Let It Roll)
They say they like it, but, now in the market it
May not go well as it's too laid back.
You need some oomph-papa, nothing like Frank Zappa
And not New Wave they don't play that crap
Try beating your head on a brick wall
Hard like a stone
Don't have time for the music
They want the blood from a clone
I hear a clock ticking
I feel the nit-picking
I almost quit kicking at the wall
There seems a confusion, under the illusion
That they know just what will suit you all
Beating my head on a brick wall
Hard like a stone
Ain't got time for the music
They want the blood from a clone
There is no sense to it
Pure pounds and pence to it
They're so intense too makes me amazed
Don't want no music but, they're making you sick with
Some awful noises that may get played
By beating their heads on a brick wall
Hard like a stone
Ain't no messing 'round with music
Give them the blood from a clone
Where will it all lead us
I thought we had freed us
song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
A Woman's Heart
A heart of a woman, a heart where other hearts are made
A heart we run to when we are confused and afraid.
A heart where beauty keeps its secrets of sublime
A heart which survives the woes of pernicious time
A heart that beats the blood of truth
A heart, the symbol of love and loves proof.
The heart of our women, the heart of our mothers
The heart of our sisters, the heart of our brothers.
The mother heart, which creates all life
The mother heart which empathizes all our strife
A vessel in the heart of God
A vessel we steer through the struggles of life with; our immaculate rod.
The heart of woman
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Blood From A Clone
They say they like it, now, but in the market it
May not go well as its too laid back.
You need some oomph-papa, nothing like
Frank zappa
And not new wave they dont play that crap
Tyr beating your head on a brick wall
Hard like a stone
Dont have time for the music
They want the blood from a clone
I hear a clock ticking
I feel the nitpicking
I almost quit kicking at the wall
There seems a confusion, under the illusion
That they know just what will suit you all
Beating my head on a brick wall
Hard like a stone
Aint got time for the music
They want the blood from a clone
There is no sense to it
Pure pounds and pence to it
Theyre so intense too makes me amazed
Dont want no music but, theyre making you
Sick with
Some awful noises that may get played
By beating their heads on a brick wall
Hard like a stone
Aint no messing round with music
Give them the blood from a clone
Where will it all lead us
I thought we had freed us
From the mundane seems Im wrong again
Could be they lack roots, theyre still wearing
Jack boots theyre
Marching somewhere in the pouring rain
Beating my head on a brick wall
Hard like a stone
Dont have time for the music
They want the blood from a clone
song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
That child
Eight years old and already hate life
Abused by her adopted mother
Raped by her adopted brother
She is just a child and she cant be more.
The bruises on her back keeps her silent
She cries at night till the pain is numb
And when he is on top of her she drifts away
Away from body away from spirit.
Nine years old and it continues
To protect her blood brother from the same
She pretends nothing is wrong
For him, trying so hard to be strong.
She cared so much for her blood brother
She took his bruises upon her self
And he was only a year younger
And they both were just kids.
Ten years old and he still knows nothing
She must be the best secret keeper
Or just a scarred girl who doesnt want her brother to know
Either way she is just a child.
Eleven years old nothing changes
Twelve years old she is getting fed up
The nights when he would come in and do what ever
Forced to mature before her time.
Fourteen she tells her adopted mother
And adopted mother beats her and the girl knows not why
Is it because the mother doesn't believe her
Or does not care enough for her feelings
Sixteen she tries to runaway
Her aunt talks to her so she goes back
Seventeen she moves out and graduate high school
What do you know she graduate with honors.
Eighteen she joins the military
Her blood brother still knows nothing
He see her for her success and not her struggle
That is how she want to keep it.
Her childhood was taking
She just met her birth father
Knows not her birth mother
Her biological brother is all she has
At Nineteen she wrote this poem.
And still remembers that child.
poem by Tressa Carliss
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Sister's Sleep
She fell asleep on Christmas Eve:
At length the long-ungranted shade
Of weary eyelids overweigh'd
The pain nought else might yet relieve.
Our mother, who had lean'd all day
Over the bed from chime to chime,
Then rais'd herself for the first time,
And as she sat her down, did pray.
Her little work-table was spread
With work to finish. For the glare
Made by her candle, she had care
To work some distance from the bed.
Without, there was a cold moon up,
Of winter radiance sheer and thin;
The hollow halo it was in
Was like an icy crystal cup.
Through the small room, with subtle sound
Of flame, by vents the fireshine drove
And redden'd. In its dim alcove
The mirror shed a clearness round.
I had been sitting up some nights,
And my tired mind felt weak and blank;
Like a sharp strengthening wine it drank
The stillness and the broken lights.
Twelve struck. That sound, by dwindling years
Heard in each hour, crept off; and then
The ruffled silence spread again,
Like water that a pebble stirs.
Our mother rose from where she sat:
Her needles, as she laid them down,
Met lightly, and her silken gown
Settled: no other noise than that.
"Glory unto the Newly Born!"
So, as said angels, she did say;
Because we were in Christmas Day,
Though it would still be long till morn.
Just then in the room over us
There was a pushing back of chairs,
As some who had sat unawares
So late, now heard the hour, and rose.
With anxious softly-stepping haste
Our mother went where Margaret lay,
Fearing the sounds o'erhead--should they
Have broken her long watch'd-for rest!
She stoop'd an instant, calm, and turn'd;
But suddenly turn'd back again;
And all her features seem'd in pain
With woe, and her eyes gaz'd and yearn'd.
For my part, I but hid my face,
And held my breath, and spoke no word:
There was none spoken; but I heard
The silence for a little space.
Our mother bow'd herself and wept:
And both my arms fell, and I said,
"God knows I knew that she was dead."
And there, all white, my sister slept.
Then kneeling, upon Christmas morn
A little after twelve o'clock
We said, ere the first quarter struck,
"Christ's blessing on the newly born!"
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Blood On The Ground
I dont wanna talk to you anymore
Im afraid of what I might say
I bite my tongue every time
You come around
cause blood in my mouth beats
Blood on the ground
Hand over my heart I swear
Ive tried everything I could
Within all my power
2 weeks and 1 hour
I slaved and now
Ive got nothing to show
Oh if only youve grown
Taller than a brick wall
From now on
Gonna start holding my breath
When you
Come around and
You flex that fake grin
cause something inside me has
Said more than twice
That breathing this air
Beats breathing you at all
I dont wanna talk to you anymore
Im afraid of what I might say
I bite my tongue every time
You come around
cause blood in my mouth beats
Blood on the ground
Hand over my mouth
Im earning the right
To my silence
In quiet discerning
Between ego and timing
Good judgment is once again
Proving to me
That its still worth
Its weight in gold
From now on Im gonna be
So much more weary
When you start to speak and
My warm blood starts to boil
Seeing you is like pulling teeth
And hearing your voice
Is like chewing tin foil
I dont wanna talk to you anymore
Im afraid of what I might say
I bite my tongue every time
You come around
cause blood in my mouth beats
Blood on the ground
Im fast to a better judgment
By saying less today
I will gain more, gain more
No cheers to you my
My fickle friend
You, you brought
The art of silent war
I dont wanna talk to you anymore
Im afraid of what I might say
I bite my tongue every time
You come around
cause blood in my mouth beats
Blood on the ground
song performed by by Incubus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Christmas Memories
Written by randy albright, john grenebaum & becky hobbs
Theres a blanket of snow coverin up the old road to the house where I was
Raised
Through the window I see the lights on the tree and a glow from the old
Fireplace
Though it all looks the same so much as changed from the way it used to be
Christmas memories of happy years gone by
They come back to me and keep me warm inside
Still those christmas memories make me cry
Now the stockings are filled; the house is still and the kids are dreamin away
Theres that old easy chair, me and daddy sat there waitin for santas sleigh
Now daddys gone but we carry on cause the little ones will need...
Christmas memories of happy years gone by
They come back to me and keep me warm inside
Oh they mean so much to me
Those christmas memories make me cry
song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Here In Bed
Here in bed behind a brick wall
I can make order and meaning,
but how do I begin? How do I
emerge without panic
to the sounds and mass
of people in the street?
Are they human who stare
as I pass by, as if sizing me up
for a mugging or a filthy proposition,
and am I human to have to be
frightened and on guard?
It's people I'm afraid of, afraid
of my own kind, knowing their angers
and schemes and violent needs, knowing
through knowledge of myself
that I have learned to resist,
but when I can't I have seen
the havoc I have made.
It's this, knowing their desperate motives,
as I have known mine, I'm afraid of
in them. I hide upon a bed
behind a brick wall and listen
to engines roaring up and down
the street and to voices shouting
to one another and find no meaning
or order in them, as there is none
in me when I am free of self-restraint.
The bed is my victory over fear.
The bed returns me to my self
as I was young and dreaming
of the beauty of the trees
and faces of people.
poem by David Ignatow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Wall
I shall beat my head against the wall
Until the moment that I die.
Or until the wall does fall
Then beside it I will sit and cry.
Then on another wall I must beat my head,
Until I just cant stand the pain
Then you will understand what I have said
My loss; will be your gain.
And on that wall will be my blood
And there it will always stay,
Mixed with the stone it will be the mud
And like my pain it wont wash away.
I will pound my head against the wall
Until the moment that I am dead
And only then, will I stand tall
Because then will my anguish will be fed.
As I hold no sorrows or remorse
So much pain that I will release
As this is my only course
And only you this action will it please.
I will pound my head against the wall
Until the moment that I am dead
And from the wall my blood will fall
In remembrance of the words I have said.
Then the world will know that I died that day
As my soul will be all that will be left
And in your mind to GOD you will here me pray,
As my destiny, has then been set.
I will pound my head against this wall
Don't you know that I am dying
Then one day, this time you will recall
As you will know that I never was lying.
My blood will be kept on this old stone wall
And there for you it will always stay
And only then will this man stand tall
Because then you will understand what I did say.
Now only GOD can hear what I am crying
From the actions that I did or even say
Upon this wall please know I was only trying
But until then, it will remind you of myself everyday.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
They Are Tearing Down My Grandfather's House
(An NLP Editor's Choice Award Winner in Verdant Lands of Spring) They are tearing down my Grandfather's house,
it's made of wood and brick and stone.
The windows they've removed. To them it's real
estate, to me it's my heart being ripped in two.
The realtors, the bankers, the moneymen don't understand.
A house is more than made of wood, a house is made of man. My Grandfather's house is a memory that will
endure after it's torn down.
He's been gone for near thirty years, but his
house had lived on.
I know the world is made of change, and change
is all that's real. But one thing I cannot change,
that is the way I feel. I wipe a tear in the falling rain,
because they are tearing down my Grandfather's
house, and it gives me pain.
I love him as if it were yesteryear,
his wit and smile as warm as the sun.
The house once stood to remind me, but that too
is gone. They are tearing down my Grandfather's house,
it's made of wood and brick and stone.
Yet a house if more than made of wood,
a house is made of love.
poem by David A. Webb
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Wall!
Why persist?
Why do not you gave up after all?
Do you not see how this wall
that you try to fall apart
is brick and stone?
Stronger?
Oldest?
Do you think
that your torment, your pain
soften its contours?
Adorn your stone walls?
Do not you see that
is brick and stone?
Fall one day?
Just the sound it will do
Just like in Jericho!
Be Mute!
Be Inert!
Dead!
We thank you!
Leave Us !
Tears to shed
comes from fleeting moment!
But if water is strong,
violent stream
A river meeting the sea!
you reveal the way for us
And when you're
Tired and all the work already done
Allow us navigate your river bed.
bricks and stones on our head!
poem by Mirna Morgan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Last Lovely Rose Of The Fall
Her pink petals lay on the short grass beside the red brick garden wall
By the thorny mother that bore her the last lovely rose of the Fall
White butterflies flit in the garden in the warm sunshine of mid day
And the shrike thrush he pipes on a low branch in his cloak of light brown to gray,
The rose tree has lost her last and her finest daughter next year new roses she will bear
And the rose tree in her flowers does look lovely than her there is none quite so fair
And her flowers they must return to Nature and on Nature's bosom decay
And the rose tree herself sooner or later must return to Nature one day,
The dark willy wagtail he sits on the brick wall his long black tail he wags to and fro
For him 'tis a very good Season on butterlies fat he does grow
Each life form serves a purpose in Nature for one to live one has to die
And what comes from Nature goes back to Nature and the same goes for you and for i
The pink rose petals lay on the grass by their mother on this warm March day in the Fall
And of all of the flowers in the garden in bloom she was the fairest of all.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
And There is... a Brick
And there is a brick
A wall that not speak
Silent and still
and doesn't have any will
That is a brick
Some may pray, some may weep
Some kick the brick
That is a brick
Shield not to hurt
Human that lock their minds
But let the brick
takes the wind of change
without regretting
what both sides couldn't send
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
How load is pain?
How loud is pain?
Can any one hear does anyone know?
Can you see my sat hunched against the wall.
Just how much futher can I fall?
Here I am all the pain pileing on.
How loud is pain?
Can any one see my hidden tears?
Can anyone see all my fears?
I wonder why all these years?
Just how much more can I take?
How loud is pain?
Can pain ever be clear?
My heart is braking in two.
Here I sit my back against the wall.
My head in my knees.
Only I know the truth.
How loud is pain?
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Stone by Stone
I built this wall around my heart
and stone by stone it falls apart
I built this wall to keep you out
the pain, the loss, and all the doubt
I built this wall around my heart
and stone by stone it falls apart
brick by brick it is destroyed
tear by tear i realize
but, I built this wall to keep you out
and stone by stone it fell apart
all the pain, the loss, the doubt
goodbye to that wall around my heart
for stone by stone it fell apart.
poem by Kenzie Lynn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
December, 1919
Last night I heard your voice, mother,
The words you sang to me
When I, a little barefoot boy,
Knelt down against your knee.
And tears gushed from my heart, mother,
And passed beyond its wall,
But though the fountain reached my throat
The drops refused to fall.
'Tis ten years since you died, mother,
Just ten dark years of pain,
And oh, I only wish that I
Could weep just once again.
poem by Claude McKay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Empire State Human
Since I was very young I realised
I never wanted to be human size
So I avoid the crowds and traffic jams
They just remind me of how small I am
Because of this longing in my heart
Im going to start the growing up
Im going to grow now and never stop
Think like a mountain, grow to the top
Tall, tall, tall, I want to be tall, tall, tall
As big as a wall, wall, wall, as big as a wall, wall, wall
And if Im not tall, tall, tall, then I will grow, grow, grow
Because Im not tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall
Tall, tall, tall, I want to be tall, tall, tall
As big as a wall, wall, wall, as big as a wall, wall, wall
And if Im not tall, tall, tall, then I will grow, grow, grow
Because Im not tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall
With concentration
My size increased
And now Im fourteen stories high
At least!!
Empire state human
Just a bored kid
Ill go to egypt to be
A pyramid
Tall, tall, tall, I want to be tall, tall, tall
As big as a wall, wall, wall, as big as a wall, wall, wall
And if Im not tall, tall, tall, then I will grow, grow, grow
Because Im not tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall
Tall, tall, tall, I want to be tall, tall, tall
As big as a wall, wall, wall, as big as a wall, wall, wall
And if Im not tall, tall, tall, then I will grow, grow, grow
Because Im not tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall
Brick by brick
Stone by stone
Growing till hes fully grown
Brick by brick
Stone by stone
Growing till hes fully grown
Fetch more water
Fetch more sand
Biggest person in the land
Fetch more water
Fetch more sand
Biggest person in the land
song performed by by Human League
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Home For Love
Because the earth is vast and dark
And wet and cold;
Because man's heart wants warmth and light
Lest it grow old;
Therefore the house was built--wall, roof
And brick and beam,
By a lost hand following the lost
Delight of a dream,
And room and stair show how that hand
Groped in eager doubt,
With needless weight of teasing timber
Matching his thought--
Such fond superfluousness of strength
In wall and wood
As his half-wise, half-fearful eye
Deemed only good.
His brain he built into the house,
Laboured his bones;
He burnt his heart into the brick
And red hearth-stones.
It is his blood that makes the house
Still warm, safe, bright,
Honest as aim and eye and hand,
As clean, as light.
Because the earth is vast and dark
The house was built--
Now with another heart and fire
To be fulfilled.
poem by John Freeman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!