Am putting in my papers!
While filling the form for credit card
Against occupation I wrote am a bard.
The clerk said Madam, your real occupation.
I blurted, work in a small organization.
Very challenging, have to multi task
It’s actually, I think, too much to ask.
Am in charge of child development,
Accounts, house keeping and management.
Mouth open and ball pen frozen in mid air,
He gaped at me from his ergonomic chair.
Wow, you must so much power wield.
It’s a 24/ 7 job in lab and the fields.
Have to juggle like a clown in a circus,
Many hats…one thing, it’s not monotonous.
You know a real challenge to my ingenuity.
He looked at me with awe and incredulity.
Honest, am having signs of burn out.
Oh, understand tough job, natural fall out.
Am thinking of premature retirement,
It’s a position for life, am not buying the argument.
Time for van prastha in the lap of nature
As the sages advised in our ancient scriptures.
In a couple of days am putting in my papers
The show will go on, as I melt like a vapour.
Got the idea to write this poem after reading an email sent by a friend.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Am putting in my papers! ! ! ! ! ! !
While filling the form for a credit card
Against occupation I wrote, am a bard.
The clerk said Madam, your real occupation.
I blurted, heading a small organization.
Very challenging, have to multi task
It’s actually, I think, too much to ask.
Am in charge of child development,
Accounts, house keeping and management.
Mouth open and ball pen frozen in mid air,
He gaped at me from his ergonomic chair.
Wow, you must so much power wield.
It’s a 24/ 7 job in lab and the fields.
Have to juggle like a clown in a circus,
Many hats…one plus, it’s not monotonous.
You know a real challenge to my ingenuity.
He looked at me with awe and incredulity.
Honest, am having signs of burn out.
Oh, understand tough job, natural fall out.
Am thinking of premature retirement,
It’s a position for life, am not buying the argument.
Time for van prastha in the lap of nature
As the sages advised in our ancient scriptures.
In a couple of days am putting in my papers
The show will go on, as I melt like a vapour.
Came home; what, a vase of Tulips from Netherland.
Happy Mother's day, mom, i miss my mother and land.
You sounded sombre, what's on your mind, please wait
I am taking the next flight back tomorrow to Delhi straight.
This boy's timing is always perfect; born in morn at eight,
While growing inside me, he learnt I like to rise late.
Now that he has settled in a far off land, thousands of miles away,
What argument, I wonder, could he have to delay my getaway.
LIike a good mother, I tried to give him roots and wings
And always calmly took in stride his mood swings.
I have visions of chasing, in my verdant abode, butterflies at leisure
He can't tempt me with Europe and its historical or other treasures.
.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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In terms of the idea of long-term occupation - I have been reading a little bit more about this period - and you can see in that occupation are many lessons for the current occupation of Iraq. So we have these connections that go way back that people aren't aware of.
quote by Edwidge Danticat
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Not a Poem Poem
A Not a Poem Poem
I will not write a poem
For I am not a poet
I cannot makes things rhyme
I’ve tried for quite some time
So will I write a poem?
NO!
I can’t write poetry
I’ve tried to all my life
Once, I tried to write a poem
About a husband and his wife
It sounded really silly
So I crumbled it up into a ball
That’s why I decided
That I couldn’t write poetry at all
Am I gonna write a poem?
NO!
Well, I’ll try to write a poem
But it will be really bad
It will be absolutely lousy
It will be completely horrible
It won’t be up to snuff
People will say, “Who wrote this stuff? ”
Will my poem be good?
NO!
Can I write a poem?
NO!
Will I write a poem?
NO!
Well, what do you know! ? !
I wrote a poem!
And it’s a pretty good poem, too!
I guess I can write poetry if I try
The next time I’m asked to write a poem,
Will I say no?
NO!
When I Talk And Think About Albert
sometimes
(did i tell you that this is my
favorite word?)
i am shocked by my own
ingenuity
(sometimes i equate it with
shallowness
a loquacious mouth of the river
falling upon
a rock and smashing its
hands on the
floor of the
earth)
i blame myself for
changing the meaning of a word
like the way
i am changing the meaning of
my life
(or perhaps the lives of
other people
around me)
creating landscapes
putting trees where there are
no mountain
putting talkative women
in the house where
the house is still a
thought
(a student wants to say
i am crazy
but there is also a doubt
whether i am
one
she has the wisdom of
keeping her
mouth in the silent
mode)
i am not stupid
not crazy i still know what right
is,
i can still tell you
who are those in the left
side of the
equation
one day
i redefined a poem
it need not be a house
with a door and
windows
i can simply be stairs
or path
it can simply be a star
on the roof
it can simply be a conversation
without a direction
like a Freudian dialogue on
the sofa
where comfort is actually
moving the paths
of meteors
with a broom and
light
(do you always talk
to achieve
fulfill a mission?
what is your mission?
what is your
purpose?)
women go to the market
buy some things
for the kitchen
they do not linger upon a
talk
men go to their work
thinking about their kids
most of the time
they do not bother about
work really
they also dwell in the bodies
of other women
about those nights away
from the eyes
of their wives
people have scattered minds
unto each other
they pretend that they are devoted
into something
worthwhile
kids go to school
carrying bags filled with books
that they do not bother really reading
if they have to be honest
about who they are
the only care for the games of their
minds in those
playgrounds and
play stations
what kind of world is this
there are only so few
that live
so many people are going to
the places of death
without really knowing
each step
the famous man (you know his name)
discovered the bomb
and from then own
they own all these countries of this world
he is the real meaning and so they claim
him to be
the only meaning of this world
a nuclear god
who cannot die in that history of pain
and misery
may his soul (if he has one)
rest in peace.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ain't This a Bitch
Ain't this a bitch?
when you have helped someone out constantly,
but when you need their help they are no where around.
Ain't this a bitch?
You introduce a friend to your lover
and then two days later you find them in the bed together.
Ain't this a bitch?
you just wrote the greatest poem you ever wrote,
and right at the end of it before you can save it the power
goes out.
Now, I know some you reading this poem
are probably saying I know he could write a better poem then
this. You're probably right but I felt this one
Now, Aint that a Bitch
The Real Thing
A mongoose can smile at a cobra
But that cobra will always be a snake
Diamante can shine like a diamond
But you know, like I know
That rock will be fake
Its the real thing
The real thing
Nothing but the real thing
Its real
You can xerox the mona lisa
Deadpan da vinci in every detail
Might beat customs on a home-made visa
But false papers
Only gets you in jail
Its the real thing
The real thing
Nothing but the real thing
Its real
Life wears a smile on its face
But it comes with a sting in its tail
Make believe fables have their place
But only a fool. only a fool
Believes fairy tales
I heard all the lies that they tell ya
phone me baby. the cheques in the mail
Well as fantasy. it may please ya
As the real thing
It does nothing but fail
Its the real thing
The real thing
Nothing but the real thing
Its real
Its the real thing
The real thing
Nothing but the real thing
Its real
song performed by by Abc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I find it some of the hardest photography and the most challenging photography I've ever done. It's a real challenge to work with the natural features and the natural light.
quote by Galen Rowell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No Poem Is An Original
No poem is an original
everyone who writes
poetry thinks their poem
was an original, it just so
happens that their poem just
surfaced to the top
of their mind first, so they
were able to write it.
Everyone has love, hate
compassion buried deep
in their soul.
Poets are able to bring
all of this to the surface,
to construct, add the words,
but it is not an original
idea, for the poet because
they wrote it now, it
becomes an original for them.
Who has not heard a song,
read a poem, story or book,
seen a movie and said,
to themselves, hey I had
that same idea.
Only thing is, someone else
brought it to the surface
of the mind, and wrote it first.
Even this poem I'm writing
now is not an original
someone out there
has this idea buried
deep in their soul.
So if you have an idea
for a poem, get busy
write it, don't wait,
or you won't write an original
start today,
don't delay.
wrote 2-2-07
Dear Madam Barnum
I put on a fake smile
And start the evening show
The public is laughing
I guess by now they know
So climb from your high horse
And pull this freak show down
Dear madam barnum
I resign as clown
You said I was the master of all I surveyed
But now Im sweeping up
The last in line in your circus parade
Children are clapping
As I fall to the floor
My heart torn and broken
And they just scream for more
If Im not the sole fool
Who pulls his trousers down
Then dear madam barnum
I resign as clown
You tread the high wire
Between truth and lies
Your safety net just walked out
Much to your surprise
Strike up the band love
And let the show begin
For this is the last time
Im painting on a grin
If Im not the sole fool
Who pulls his trousers down
Then dear madam barnum
I resign as clown
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Wrote A Poem I Did Not Know The Meaning Of
I WROTE A POEM I DID NOT KNOW THE MEANING OF
I wrote a poem I did not know the meaning of-
I understood whatever I understood of it
Was only one of many misunderstandings-
I wondered then whether my Poetry is nonsense-
I know it isn’t because it tells my true feeling.
But this too is perhaps only another interpretation and another misunderstanding-
I write this poem as if I know what it is all about -
But what if it is only my misinterpretation of the real poem
I never could write?
And what if these lines are some deliberate pretentious unnecessary small confusion no one needs,
Even my dream?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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When You Wish....
When You Wish....
Ed Iacona
When the love of my life left us
And wrote us out of her script
She left her family sad and hurting
And me emotionally ripped.
I spent the days in contemplation
Sifting through the all years
Until comes night with lack of light
When shadows can hide the tears.
To find a little glimmer
Of reconcilable hope
I consulted first the guidance
Of my daily horoscope.
I asked a toy 'Magic Eight Ball'
And turned it over for it's say
The answer in the window showed
'It's Certain', 'Unclear' or 'No Way! '
I tried to use a Ouija board
To get an answer true.
Problem with my using one
To use it, it takes two.
I have a best friend, a physic
An expert with decks of Tarot
Will there be a return of my beloved?
But her cards could not show.
There's a website that grants real wishes,
And to me that sounded great!
To make them come true one must
Comply with the magic power of '8'.
Write an '8' upon a card and
Then show it to the moon.
Recite your wish specifically
And It will come true soon.
I drew an '8' most carefully
And to this I shall attest
After showing it to the moon
The moon was not impressed.
I guess there is no real 'Secret'
For it is my found contention
For no matter how hard I tried
There is no 'Power of Intention'
All I wanted was a solution and
For this I was willing to do my part
But no matter what I tried I found
That only God can change ones heart.
poem by Edward Iacona
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Even Better Than The Real Thing
Give me one more chance
And you'll be satisfied
Give me two more chances
You won't be denied
Well my heart is where it's always been
My head is something in between
Give me one more chance
Let me be your lover tonight
(Check it out)
You're the real thing
Yeah the real thing
You're the real thing
Even better than the real thing
Give me one last chance
And I'm gonna make you sing
Give me half a chance
To ride on the waves that you bring
You're honey child to a swarn of bees
Gonna blow right through you like a breeze
Give me one last chance
We'll slide down the surface of things
You're the real thing
Yeah the real thing
You're the real thing
Even better than the real thing
We're free ti fly the crimson sky
The sun won't melt our wings tonight
Oh now
Here she comes
Take me higher
Take me higher
Can you take me higher?
Will you take me higher?
You're the real thing
Yeah the real thing
You're the real thing
Even better than the real thing
Even better than the real thing
Even better than the real thing
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Those Old Days
You may be tough.
But your approach to solicit,
My empathy and pity...
Could have been easier to get,
Without your demanding it.
But I do understand,
The competition you're up against.
And if I may make a suggestion...
You should put that gun away.
Since my first reaction,
Is not empathy with pity for you at all.
'It isn't real.'
Which?
The gun?
Your wish for empathy and pity?
Or my fear?
'Why can't you just co-operate,
And give me what I want? '
Trust me.
I'm going to give you exactly what you need.
Now that I know that gun isn't real.
'The gun IS real.
My need for empathy and pity isn't.
Thank you.
All I wanted was a decent conversation.
You were the only one I spotted,
Not texting or using a cellphone.
You have no idea how difficult it is for me,
To communicate like I did in the old days.'
So you are using a gun to do it?
'Hey...
What can I say.
I'm open for your suggestions.'
Good.
Give me the gun.
And I'll show you what I would have done.
'What are you going to do? '
Communicate my feelings,
Like I use to do in those old days.
And trust me...
You will know immediately,
Just what my feelings are.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Real Thing
La la la
Love is the real thing
You know
Love is the real thing
La la la la
La love
La la la
Love is the real thing
You know
Love is the real thing
La la la la
She is waiting
In the office
For the bell to go
She is thinking
Of their meeting
Just a month ago
Now shes running
Through the people
Everyone so slow
Now he holds her
And he loves her
He tells her so and
La la la
Love is the real thing
You know
Love is the real thing
La la la la
La love
La la la
Love is the real thing
You know
Love is the real thing
La la la la
By the nightfall
They have driven
From the world they know
Shes so happy
Theyre together
And their love will grow
And when you feel your chance has come
Whos going to throw it all away
And if theres someone left behind
You have to say that
La la la
Love is the real thing
You know
Love is the real thing
La la la la
La love
La la la
Love is the real thing
You know
Love is the real thing
La la la la
La la la
Love is the real thing
You know
Love is the real thing
La la la la
La love
La la la
Love is the real thing
You know
Love is the real thing
La la la la
song performed by by Human League
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Real Life
Mmm bop it's real life
Mmm bop it's just real life
Mmm bop it's real life
Mmm bop it's just real life
Stop me if you've heard this
It's the one about the King
Who's married to the princess
That brings good use to wear his ring
She's tired and she's lonely
Cause she's sittin there at home
He's out there with his buddies
And you know what they are doin
Mmm bop it's real life
Mmm bop it's just real life
Mmm bop it's real life
Mmm bop it's just real life
Stop me if you've heard this
Yeah the one about the boy
That's wasting all his money
Buying nasty little toys
He Thinks the girlies love it
But this ain't no fairytale
They just want what's in his wallet
Don't pass go just go to jail
Mmm bop it's real life
Mmm bop it's just real life
Mmm bop it's real life
Mmm bop it's just real life
You're never gonna change a thing
So just stop flappin
You're never gonna do with what you cannot see
Mmm bop
song performed by by Atomic Kitten from Right Now
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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New Technology
No one writes a letter
these days
the old fashioned way
New technology
is leading us all gradually astray
Ignoring a pen and paper
We now put words to solder
With a word processor
Documents spurned out
of printers like sprinters
Technology has become
our instant saviour
our new child and adult molestor
Can you see what we can do
without the creator
One, two, three, four
It only takes a second to score
It only takes a second to open doors
On the internet on each floor
Pay with your credit card
Or be redeemed as mad
One, two, three, four
It only takes a second to turn
from and angel to a bitch
that is hardcore
Leaving everyone sour and sore
On the chat websites
She only uses her words to fight
One, two, three, four
It only takes a second to explore
It only takes a second to ignore
and destroy mother nature
With the push of a button
sounds cannot be muffled by cottons
Forget the days of licking stamps
Posting envelopes in a mailbox
Email messages are gathering in flocks
abundantly countless
Please stop this madness
defined as email spam
filling up your memory ram
I suppose that is what
New Technology is here for
Copyright 2005 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Suffering Is Always Personal and Better Left Unshared and Unspoken
my words are waking me up
my hand is ready, the computer beeps
i like to write an email for you
how many times shall this happen?
this urge to let you know
this morning, i again blame myself
because i can't
i am thinking of the consequences
i know how painful is it to fall
how empty can the house become
how a night without a stars can make us cry
sometimes
how the sound of the river when you walk alone
gives you the sound of the cry of the pebbles
they break their silence
they scream
for truths still untold
to rules that cannot be broken
when you enter that empty room again
a ball of silence meets you
you sit beside it
it speaks to you
this is the first time that you have seen
its nature
it is dressed with lips
and when they begin to open to about to speak to you
you close your hands
turning them into fists
and you hit your chest
and the ball of silence moves away from you
it is respect for pain
when silence pretends again that it is just a ball
and that it can go away
for men suffer all alone
on unsaid proportion
with that ability to embrace no
description
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Wrote No Poem Today/ I Wrote No Poem Yesterday
I WROTE NO POEM TODAY/ I WROTE NO POEM YESTERDAY
I wrote no poem today-
I wrote no poem yesterday-
Will I write a poem tomorrow?
Perhaps all my lines are done-
And I must live out
The rest of my life
In silence-
God is Great
Am I a small small small voice still?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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In Beautiful Garden
Love blossoms in beautiful garden
Flowers boom in colorful shape even
Some fully spread and some just coming out
This is how the life brings change about
Do the flowers need any show?
Do they need some support to grow?
Not at all as it is natural change
It has taken place with the emergence of age
Flowers have natural tendency to attract
It is argument supported by fact
Whether you like or dislike, it can’t be denied
The real fact remains to be seen and can’t be lied
Flowers too need good environment
Lovely people to look at with nice comments
If nature does not find its lovers
Its importance will not be lost however
It has direct relation with good music
What ever seen and observed is accepted as basic
Think of cool breeze in early morning with bird’s voice
You may definitely dislike the little disturbing noise
It makes you to sink over lost opportunities
There is enough of time to think over its futilities
But some changes are always welcome
They are certain and bound to come
In life you may need partner
It has to happen sooner or later
If that is synchronized to the tune
Life will become sweet with fortune
Garden may look barren without flowers
Land may look deserted without rain showers
It is natural blessings that you got to respond
Your wish and goal definitely corresponds
Life has to be challenging with enterprise
It must move on even with surprises
How a flower can be looked with out fragrance?
Life too will be looked without charm without its presence
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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In the spirit of Rumi - 67 - To Rumi
I’m not too proud to say
please write a new poem through me
and I promise not to claim that
I wrote it myself…
or if that’s too much to ask,
just a line somewhere, that I’ll watch
as it writes itself and know
that you, not I, write it
or if that’s too much to ask,
open an old book at
a page that smells just faintly
of attar of roses, and know that
Rumi read this page too
or sitting quietly waiting for a poem,
or after a poem, and there’ll be
a slight breeze for a moment
carrying the memory of a rose
from an old Persian species
mixed with the faintest scent of wild herbs
after desert rain
or if that’s too much to ask,
just the occasional memory
that you lived, and wrote,
and a poem comes to mind
as if you’re reading it first to a friend
and I’ll smile and look at
the rose in the blue and white vase over there,
neither of us caring about time
while your book lies open by the window,
the breeze turning the pages gently
as if it knew which poem to choose
poem by Michael Shepherd
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