Seeker Of Visions
what does this mean.
to see walking men
wrapped in the color of death,
to hear from their tongue
such difficult syllables?
are they the spirits
of our hope
or the pale ghosts of our future?
who will believe the red road
will not run on forever?
who will believe
a tribe of ice might live
and we might not?
poem by Lucille Clifton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
What Color? (Hope)
what color
was the dust
from which the stars
were made?
what color is the hunger
written on the child's face?
what color is justice,
forgiveness, desire, truth?
what color is the wind....
the rain, gravity,
and knowledge?
what color is equality?
what color is freedom?
what color is eternity?
what color is redemption?
what color is God?
what color were the nails
that hung Jesus on the cross?
what color was enlightenment
falling on the Buddha as he sat
'neath that tree?
what color is prejudice, hatred,
fear, greed, apathy.....
what color your skin?
nay, what color is your blood?
and what color are the eyes
of humanity staring through the darkness?
and what color is hope?
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ghost Souls
Pale ghosts against dark walls,
figures thirsting for freedom
Loveless styles force quick arrival,
one way doors heavy their souls.
Ghosts possess souls,
though dark walls do conceal.
Freedom is there
souls all cannot hear
Dimensioned freedom
exists for ghosts who thirst.
Have not these ghosts discovered
contrasting love within infinite darkness?
poem by Elizabeth Wiles
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
One Big Sky
Colored banners - color kills
What color is the blood that spills
If we don't see it no one will
Under one big sky
Guns and plowshares - promise land
Ghosts of war stretch out their hand
If we don't hear them no one can
Under one big sky
Under one big sky a voice is crying to be heard
But in a world where love has died
That voice seems so absurd
We are children of the future
- maybe we're just passing through here
All depends on what you do here
Under one big sky
Quest for power; pay the cost
Liberty in tempest tossed
If we don't stop them, we'll be lost
Under one big sky
Under one big sky a voice is crying to be heard
But in a world where love has died
That voice seems so absurd
We are children of the future
- maybe we're just passing through here
All depends on what you do here
Under one big sky
song performed by by Kansas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Ghosts
Some ghosts are women,
neither abstract nor pale,
their breasts as limp as killed fish.
Not witches, but ghosts
who come, moving their useless arms
like forsaken servants.
Not all ghosts are women,
I have seen others;
fat, white-bellied men,
wearing their genitals like old rags.
Not devils, but ghosts.
This one thumps barefoot, lurching
above my bed.
But that isn't all.
Some ghosts are children.
Not angels, but ghosts;
curling like pink tea cups
on any pillow, or kicking,
showing their innocent bottoms, wailing
for Lucifer.
poem by Anne Sexton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Life In The Bush Of Ghosts
Life seemed to come
To a still
Everything around me
Is like death
It is difficult moving
And going back is Impossible
These are my days in the bush
Of ghosts
Why do we have
To live in fear
When death is
Inevitable
The fear for failure
Took away my
Pride and I must
Do anything to
Achieve height
Many a time I dream
And find myself in
The bush of ghosts
With my loved ones,
Hands outstretched
For a warm welcome
Of my embrace
But then I awoke,
And finds my life is
Just an illusion of
My years past.
poem by Efe Benjamin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
There Is Hope For The Future
The bombs have caused death and destruction and the families mourn their dead
But there is hope for the future for better days ahead
When those for peace and World harmony will finally prevail
For those who talk of waging war are surely doomed to fail.
There is hope for the future though I may not live to see my dream
Of a better life for everyone in a World where peace will reign supreme
A World free of borders and camps for refugees
Where the smell of death and destruction is not blowing in the breeze
There is hope for the future around me not all dark
I hear young children playing in the playground in the park
The children are the future and they may well unite
Behind a peaceful leader who won't lead by power of might.
There is hope for the future and all surely not lost
Though there won't be peace tomorrow and 'twill come at a great cost
The Rose of Peace will bloom again though with the dead I lay
And the young and enlightened leaders to peace will lead the way.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Spirits?
Though I've never seen one exactly
I've encountered some evil presence
The very sense of it overwhelms me
But with God, Fear lurks in absence.
Spirits of dead are mere wanderers
Some are evil and utterly vicious
Some are more harmful than the others
And some possess humans for their use.
The spirits who protect us are angels
And the spirits who harm us are vile
Some in realms of government control
And some enthroned in fake piety's style.
Spirits of the dead they call 'ghosts'
They seem to avoid me and hide
They're the ones I would like to ask most
What they felt at the moment they died.
For you see, I am quite prepared
To meet that old man with the sickle
For Death is the one Jesus dared
Over which He proved He was able.
That Jesus Who now lives in me
Has power over all of these spirits
At the mention on His Name they flee
For they know there's just One Holy Spirit.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ode To Happiness
Ode to happiness
Joy cometh in the morning.
May only peace reign.
All our hope comes from above.
Wars shall truly cease,
When that which is perfect comes.
Rejoicing always
We shall overcome sin’s grasp,
When Heaven arrives!
The Earth will sing a new song.
Every knee shall then bend down!
A Choka Poem goes like this:
1st 3 lines = 5,7,5 syllables
2nd 3 lines = 7,5,7 syllables
Ending 2 lines = 7 syllables each
poem by Robert Edgar Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Floridian Nightmare
(5/12/11)
The spirits of the dead were flying all around
All you could hear was a screechy eerie sound
The coffins and bodies were taken and thrown into a ravine
One on top of another was all that could be seen.
A worker had notified the authorities of what had taken place
The news media heard of it and said it was a disgrace.
Loved ones came running as they heard of the news
Of how their loved ones had been abused.
Many people have said that they see the spirits
Searching each grave
Looking for a marker of where they once laid.
The people walking their dogs very late at night
Telling of a screaming as their dogs jump with freight.
Now this is a true story and not a Halloween tale
Till this day you could hear the spirits wail.
You can hear the wailing more on Halloween night
As the other spirits join and scream of their plight.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
It Came Into My Mind
it came into my mind what she started as a riddle.
syllables of life.
and of the seasons.
nine syllables for her till blooming till wilting
of the chrysanthemum, those which are not so white
against the snowy mountain of Fuji
two syllables for her brief stay in the woods
when she comes back as part of the wood itself
the twigs mourn for her
the leaves do not sing and the river stops flowing.
i ask myself, now that i have learned what syllables stand for.
how many syllables do i need to love you completely?
i have only one for you. The rest shall be my lies.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Color Me
I wish that they would color me
The color of the rose
The color of the spring
Or the color of the snow.
If again they’d color me
The color that I would be
Would be the color I could see
As long as I am free.
As I wish that they would color me
The color of the trees
Or the color of the leaves
And then that color I would be.
I wish that I was a rainbow
With the many colors of the sky
Or the single color of a star
Shimmering in the night.
And if again they would color me
The color that I would be
Would be the color that is me
Is the color that I could see.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Green And Gray
I'm in a room full of people, hanging on one person's breath. We would all vote him most likely to be loved to death. I hope he still wants it, but it might remind him of when, he aimed for the bulls eye and hit it nine times out of ten. That one time his hand slipped, and I saw the dart sail away. I don't know where it landed, but I'm guessing between green and gray. We thought nothing of it, but it still haunts him like a ghost. With all eyes upon him, except two that matter the most.
He says "Green is the color everyone sees al around me. Gray is the color I see around her, and she's just a blur." The more the corwd cheers, the less I can hear and they don't really care what I play. It might be for her. But for now it's between green and gray.
We paid and we cheered. Now we're gone and to us that feels right. But for him every one of those evenings turns into a night. With another hotel room where he lays awake to pretend that he's doing fine with his notebook and discman for friends.
He says "Green is the color everyone sees al around me. Gray is the color I see around her, and she's just a blur." Night after night what I hear, what I write fills the room and my head starts to sway. It might be for her, but for now it's between green and gray.
I want you to love me, he whispers, unable to speak. And he wonders aloud why feelings so strong make the body so weak. Then he awoke. Now he's scared to death somebody heard. If it was you, and you know her, please don't say a word.
song performed by by Nickel Creek
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Why Be A Bukowski Or An Emily? They Are All Dead
hey friend, dear poet
why be an emily dickenson or a charles bukowski
or a walt whitman or an ezra pound
look man, they are all dead
they're great, they have given themselves
extraordinary fames
commensurate to their extraordinary works
but they are all dead
and they have no more possibilities
they are all impotents
and faded and (forgive the word)
gone, gone, gone, gone.
let them be but part of our memories,
nothing but maps, guides, to the roads that we must now
take,
ghosts, famous ghosts, but ghosts just the same,
spirits, their poems are here with us
as a legacy
but we are alive, we are the possibilities
we are more than miserable with our
search for meaning
our quest to justify our insignificances
these little cravings for light
and scent and color
these little lives we have
if true to our miseries
as they were true to theirs
we can even be more
than what they had in their own time
in their own lives
have become......
sail on man, sail on, in the ocean of possibilities
in the vast space of our potentialities
we can be ourselves, truly ourselves,
that to me,
is greatness enough
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Green & Gray
Im in a room full of people, hanging on one persons breath.
We would all vote him most likely to be loved to death.
I hope he still wants it, but it might remind him of when,
He aimed for the bulls eye and hit it nine times out of ten.
That one time his hand slipped, and I saw the dart sail away.
I dont know where it landed, but Im guessing between green and gray.
We thought nothing of it, but it still haunts him like a ghost.
With all eyes upon him, except two that matter the most.
He says green is the color everyone sees al around me.
Gray is the color I see around her, and shes just a blur.
The more the corwd cheers, the less I can hear
And they dont really care what I play. it might be for her.
But for now its between green and gray.
We paid and we cheered. now were gone and to us that feels right.
But for him every one of those evenings turns into a night.
With another hotel room where he lays awake to pretend
That hes doing fine with his notebook and discman for friends.
He says green is the color everyone sees al around me.
Gray is the color I see around her, and shes just a blur.
Night after night what I hear, what I write fills the room
And my head starts to sway. it might be for her,
But for now its between green and gray.
I want you to love me, he whispers, unable to speak.
And he wonders aloud why feelings so strong make the body so weak.
Then he awoke. now hes scared to death somebody heard.
If it was you, and you know her, please dont say a word.
song performed by by Nickel Creek
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Ghostly House
You need language of ghosts
To communicate with spirits that impose on us.
You crave for the very food our ghosts need.
Come with the religion of yours to distract them.
For it pray and they will go away, for all eternity!
Your House is Haunted. Be so wary!
Even call the police, and they will never enter your home.
Your House is Haunted. It needs some policy to rid it of evil and despair.
You House needs some care. It requires the life to adjust. You must.
If ghosts are about then leave the house and complain.
Nobody listens except the Priest, and he is not around.
Go to the doctor, and feel doom in abundance. The ghosts do not win.
Good Luck!
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Wrapped around your finger
You consider me the young apprentice
Caught between the Scylla and Charibdes.
Hypnotized by you if I should linger
Starring at the ring around your finger
I have only come here seeking knowledge
Things they wouldn't teach me of in college
I can see the destiny you sold
Turn into a shining band of hope
I'll be wrapped around your finger
I'll be wrapped around your finger
Nafostaveles is not your name
But I know what you're up to just the same
I will listen hard to your tuition
You will see it come to it's fruition
I'll be wrapped around your finger
I'll be wrapped around your finger
Devil and the deep blue see behind me
Vanish in the air you'll never find me
I will turn you face to alabaster
Then you'll find you're servant is your master
You'll be wrapped around my finger
You'll be wrapped around my finger
You'll be wrapped around my finger
song performed by by Green Lizard from Identity
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Heroin
Death is a rider on a pale horse, Honey.
Yah roll up your sleeve and yah lay down your money.
Death is a rider on a pale horse.
A cord around your arm and the needle hunts your vein.
You'll starve in your dreams with the lotus in your brain.
Death is a rider on a pale horse.
There's blood in your eyes, and your time's not free.
Selling it like that will get yah HIV.
Death is a rider on a pale horse.
Death is a rider on a pale horse, Honey.
Yah roll up your sleeve and yah lay down your money.
Ya, death is a rider on a pale horse.
Easy and Difficult
Easy and Difficult
Easy to get a place in someone’s address book
Difficult is to get a place in someone’s heart
Easy is to judge the mistakes of others
Difficult is to recognize our own mistakes
Easy is to talk without thinking
Difficult is to control the tongue
Easy is to hurt someone who loves us
Difficult is to heal the wound
Easy is to forgive others
Difficult is to ask for forgiveness
Easy is to set rules
Difficult is to follow them
Easy is to dream every night
Difficult is to fight for a dream
Easy is to show victory
Difficult is to accommodate defeat with dignity
Easy is to admire a full moon
Difficult is to see the other side
Easy is to stumble on a stone
Difficult is to get up
Easy is to enjoy life every day
Difficult is to give its real value
Easy is to pray every night
Difficult is to find God in small things
Easy is to promise something to someone
Difficult is to fulfill the promise
Easy is to say we love
Difficult is to show it every day
Easy is to criticize others
Difficult is to improve oneself
Easy is to make mistakes
Difficult is to learn from them
Easy is to weep for lost love
Difficult is to take care of it so as not to lose it
Easy is to think about improving
Difficult is to stop thinking and putting it into action
Easy is to think bad of others
Difficult is to give them the benefit of doubt
Easy is to receive
Difficult is to give
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
It's Death Again
It's Death again - He's always there -
Watching, waiting - e'er the stare!
Every time I look behind
Or reach to pull the window blind,
I catch a glimpse of grubby hood -
A little clue to where he stood;
The glint of light that caught the scythe.
Perhaps if I could pay a tithe…
But O! no use, he'll never go.
The adamant phantom; don't you know
He will but wait until it's time
For me to hear His fateful chime? -
The toll that claims my destiny,
To Hail: 'You're next, it has to be…'
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
The Reign of Death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Pale
Pale blue clouds, in a pale blue sky,
Pale sea birds, fly every which way.
O'er the pale blue sea, they softly fly,
Throughout the pale blue day.
Pale brown grass, withering alone,
Amid the sand dunes dying.
Pale as a sun bleached animal bone,
As you hear the sea breeze sighing.
Pale grey mist upon the sea,
Slowly creeping to the shore.
Pale giant tarpons jumping free,
As the pale Atlantic, gently roars.
12/3/11 Alton Texas
poem by Juan Olivarez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!