Perseverence
Sharing
A one room
Tenement,
He toiled
When the family slept.
He sat
On the kitchen floor,
And did his calculations
On the bare floor,
With a piece of charcoal.
Calm resolve on his face,
Couldn’t care less
What the others
Had to say to demotivate.
He had a vision.
Dearth of means
Didn’t waver,
Him from his decision.
Despite ridicule,
He carried on with a smile.
Nothing could stop
Him from reaching the top.
Soon his time came,
He too had
A shot
At success and fame.
Taught his children
Hard work always pays.
Now
Everyone comes
To felicitate
And
Ask for favours.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Squalor & Chips
My angel of the night
came down the stairs of morning
his hair, brown locks of greasiness,
his mouth, those sweet lips, yawning.
He stopped three steps from earth that day
and gazed at trainers in his way
and then as I began to pray,
stepped over and ignored them.
He took four steps across the room
he missed the cloth, the pan, the broom
and squashed cold chips, bare footed
upon the kitchen flooring!
Alas my fallen angel there,
sat his bottom on a chair
and sweeping hand through tousled hair,
ate his breakfast without care.
Without thought for chips all squashed,
flattened on that kitchen floor.
A floor so needy for a wash
as I exclaimed, "Oh my dear God! "
I found the mop, the bucket too
I cleaned the floor, mopped up the goo
and then I had a notion to,
but my angel wouldn't let me through.
Squashed chips on the kitchen floor
last nights washing up,
sticky table, dustbins full
and an empty coffee cup.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Face On The Cutting Room Floor
Shes history
No one would give her a star on the walk
Shed have a hundred if pillows could talk
Where have I seen her before?
Shes the face on the cutting room floor
Its no mystery
Acting in school at the tenderest age
Lit up the room when she stepped on the stage
Came to la for some more
Shes the face on the cutting room floor
She had visions of contracts
And thousands of people in line
To see her;
Knocking on door after door after all of this time,
Now shes not sure
Up in hollywood
Stayed with an agent she met in a bar
Laughed when he told her hed make her a star
Where has she heard that before?
Shes the face on the cutting room floor
One night he told her that shed never get anywhere
In her clothes
Thats what it takes to play movieland musical chairs
Now she knows
Goodbye hollywood
Leaving tonight on the 2:30 hound
Sunrise or sunset she wont be around
But theyll replace her with so many more
Shes the face on the cutting room floor
Poor little face on the cutting room floor
song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Downward Spiral
We met by chance in a noisy low lit place,
the music was loud and I couldn't see a face.
We were quiet types but we hit it off straight away,
you seemed intrigued by what I had to say.
You came home with me and stayed awhile,
but then you left with a wave and a smile.
The next morning was just like any other day,
shower, breakfast, and a grindstone for pay.
For the next few days you never entered my thoughts
but then one night I drunk more than I ought.
You emerged from the shadows and we met again,
it was then I realised that we both felt the same.
You were pleased to see me and I to see you,
and there was no doubt what we should do.
We slept together and when I awoke you'd gone,
leaving me with little to think upon.
Throughout the day I began to feel funny inside,
a feeling like love that wouldn't subside.
I thought that you and I were meant to be,
and I wanted you to be a part of me.
After knocking off work I got changed and went out,
I knew I would find you somewhere about.
You were at the place where we met before,
but how you knew I'd be there I wasn't sure.
We resumed to where were the previous night,
but some how we got drawn into a bar-room fight.
I can't remember what was actually said or why,
but I do know that I had a massive black eye.
The very next evening we met up once more
and again people were fighting on the bar-room floor.
This time the police came and took us all away
and put us in a cell until the light of day.
I must have been sleeping when you got released,
you left me to face a charge of disturbing the peace.
You'd changed my life and I had no money to spend,
I couldn't go on like this, but I could see no end.
Your feelings for me will always be the same,
but you're not capable of suffering pain.
The time of the day has no effect on you,
you always look the same whatever you do.
Now I've lost my job and my rent is way overdue,
and all of this is down to you.
Please get out of my life I don't need you anymore!
No! please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, I have to score! !
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Future of the Country
Tears in the eyes,
Fear on the face,
I often see children working,
Roads being there workplace.
Unwillingly doing work,
By the fear of being scolded
Or beaten by their employers
I see children working for bread.
Messy hair, torn clothes,
Children walking bare feet
And working really hard
Not caring about the rain or heat.
Children doing all sorts of jobs
Including selling and begging.
I have also seen children
Cleaning cars for an earning.
I feel sorry for them.
I feel it is very unfair,
That people make children work
When they should take their care.
Children are delicate,
We must care for them.
For every child in the world
Is as precious as a gem.
At least thinking about the country,
We must stop child labour.
We must stop burdening the children
As they are the country's future.
poem by Sneha Khedkar
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Broken Glasses (2)
It's all broken glasses falling on the floor
Piece by piece breaking even more
One becoming two with each and every blow
A tree of glasses will never grow
Broken glasses on the floor
A million pieces becoming more
Each piece alone starts to shine
As though each one were becoming alive
A million pieces lie on the floor
Broken glasses broken to the core
They make me cry with their silence alone
As though they believe that all hope is gone
And the light that shines on the edge of a piece
Is like an un-witnessed tear of the pain unseen
As though when the pieces stop falling
All the glasses stop fighting
And chose to shine no more
Broken glasses falling on the floor
What can I say what have I more
Broken glasses I adore
Like a silent heart beat being ignored
Broken glasses are alive
Broken glasses are the life
Of a character broken deep inside
poem by Hafeni Nghidinua
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My Grandmother
When she would talk about her mother,
it was as though there were another person in the room
She could see her mother in her mind;
It was as if my grandmother was dancing across the kitchen floor
It was as if she were talking about an imaginary person
who was not in the room
Her mother was in her mind
My mother was standing on the kitchen floor, cleaning a glass, and thinking of my grandmother
I could see it through the silence
poem by Samuel Stuart Pennell
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Bug A Boo (Refugee Camp Remix)
[Wyclef:]
(Everybody on the floor)
East Side
(Everybody on the floor)
South Side
(Everybody on the floor)
North Side
(Everybody on the floor)
West Side
(Everybody on the floor)
[Beyonce:]
We told you we was gonna give it to you raw
(Everybody on the floor)
We ain't do it right the first time
(Everybody on the floor)
We gonna do it right the second time
(Everybody on the floor)
You make me wanna throw my pager out the window
Tell MCI to cut the phone poles
Break my lease so I can move
'Cause you a bug a boo
song performed by by Destiny's Child from This Is The Remix
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Billy Jack
Written by: curtis mayfield
Just out of monday
Run into a friend
Down the street, down the street
Where i live
Ah! ah! sad things begin
I could feel from within
From the message, from the message
He had to give
'bout a buddy of mine
Running out of time
Somebody past noon, shot across the room
And now the man no longer lives
Too bad about him
Too sad about him
Don't get me wrong, the man is gone
But it's a wonder he lived this long
Up in the city they called him boss jack
But down home he was a alley cat
Ah! didn't care nothing about being black
Oh! billy jack
Can't be no fun (can't be no fun)
To be shot, shot with a hand gun
Body sprawled out, you without a doubt
Running people out, there on the floor, oh oh oh
Ah! ah! bad bloody bloody mess
Shot all up in his chest
One sided duel, gun and a fool
What a way to go
Up in the city they called him boss jack
But down home he was a alley cat
Ah! didn't care nothin' 'bout being black
Ah, oh, billy jack
Ah! ah! ah! ah!
song performed by by Lenny Kravitz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm not a company man.
Ghazal format
Some men strive hard chasing success
Whilst other men are content with less.
It all depends I must suppose.
On whom they're trying to impress.
I value self sufficiency
And use my time efficiently.
I choose to please myself.
There is no reason I can see.
For me to use my energy
Concentrating constantly.
Pursuing riches I don't need.
It simply makes no sense to me.
I understand that some will choose
To store up wealth they cannot use,
But that does not apply to me.
Because I know I can refuse.
To work for sixteen hours a day
I live my life a different way.
The company does not own me.
Though I work hard to earn my pay.
I spend time with my family.
Which I regard importantly.
There is much more to life than work.
I can state quite confidently.
I am contented with my lot.
I need no more than what I've got.
That is what success means to me.
My family first no matter what.
Wednesday,26 September 2012
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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A Child of Then
I lay down on my living room floor
Convinced that the world would end.
A crisis off Cuba with missiles in route.
Yes, I am a Child of Then.
A lady in pink with blood on her dress.
A President shot in the head
I remember where I was exactly that day
Yes, I am a Child of Then.
Police battle Blacks, Watts is in flames
Protests rage on without end.
King is dead at the hand of a bigoted man
Yes, I am a Child of Then.
Camelots heir sought to bind up the wounds
Then Sirhan Sirhan shot him dead.
Bobby bled out on the kitchen tiled floor
Yes, I am a Child of Then.
Asian girl running, naked, on a dirt country road.
A Viet Cong man shot in the head
Fifty Eight Thousand names on a wall
Yes, I am a Child of Then.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Not A Poem
It's flush left,
The first letter
In each line is
Capitalized, and
I use a simile, but
It's more police report
Than poem.
At just past 7 a.m.,
On a Saturday,
My father slapped my face.
He slapped my face
Because I didn't eat
The scrambled eggs he made.
It was easy for him to slap my face
Because it reminded him
Of the people he hated.
He hated my face.
He slapped my face so hard that
My heart stopped beating,
I stopped breathing, my eyes
Bounced around in their sockets, and
My cheek was pushed hard
And deep into the empty space
Where a tooth was.
Then he quickly went back up to his room,
He was always going back up to his room,
And he slammed the door.
My face was numb, my arms went limp
And my legs buckled. I watched
The squares on the kitchen floor go up
And down. The bicyclists
On the wallpaper moved.
My heart became bloated with sadness.
More than ever before.
It dropped, like a water balloon
Falling to the sidewalk
From a second story window
With a never ending anticipation
Of destruction.
poem by Francis Santaquilani
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Depressed Bubble
His eyes twinkled,
When water bowled along,
With a heavy heart full of grief he stood there,
Feeling out of sorts.
Thinking what would happen to his mother,
When she'll know he got a D,
Thinking what would happen to his father,
Knowing his son couldn't reach his expectations.
Hearing his father's footsteps the boy ran away,
How would he face his father,
How would he face his mother,
What would he say to them?
Only this that they shouldn't have expected much from him,
Or rather blame himself?
His father called out his name,
He couldn't bare the pain,
It was the third time his hard work had went in vain,
The boy thought of nothing,
And while the father reached,
He was horrified for he saw blood stains on the floor,
And no sign of his child.
Teardrops wetted his clothes,
And all that he cited was,
Did you came to see me,
Or did you wished me to go with just tears in my eyes and blood on my hands.....
Written on 10/20/10
poem by Ayesha Riaz
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Maid
After a decade
Of housekeeping
When housework
Seemed like
Clock-work
Never-ending
The more you
Clean
The more
It piles up
For
Another
Clean…
I finally have a
Maid
Who helps me
Every week.
A luxury
I couldn't
Afford
In the past
Years
As the
Cost of
Living
In the UK
Is so high.
Now,
That she
Takes care
Of my
Home
And I
Pay her
Well -
For all the
Cleaning…
I should
Feel happy,
Shouldn't I?
I have more
Time…
For myself
And my
Family.
But why
Do I
Feel so
Guilty?
The Work
I didn't
Like doing
She does it
All for the
Money
She needs
To feed
Her family
Of four
Children.
The mother
In me
Doesn't
Quite
Relish
Seeing
This -
Another
Mother
Work
So hard
And do
Odd jobs
Such as
Cleaning
People's
Toilets
And baths.
We find it
So uneasy
To clean
Our own.
Money
Makes
A slave of you
You like it
Or not,
To feed
Four
Hungry
Bellies,
You have to
Clean
Other people's
Homes.
The Question
Remains:
Should I be
Feeling
Happy
About
Giving her
Employment
And giving
Myself
Some respite
From the
Daily
Drudgery
Of house-keeping?
Or should I be
Feeling uneasy
About the fact
That she's also
A woman like me
A mother like me
A human like me
Yet she works
So hard for
Money…
The kind of jobs
I would abhor
To do…
She does it
With a smile
To keep her
Employers
Happy…
As she knows
If she
Loses her
Job, her
Children
Will be so
Unhappy.
(Poem themed on Dilemma)
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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Dead Rat
It wasnt me who shot the rat that is lying dead upon the floor,
It wasnt me who shot the cat who ate the rat
Lying dead upon the floor
It wasnt me who shot the dog who ate the cat woh ate the rat
Lying dead upon the floor
It wasnt me who shot the lion who ate the dog who ate the cat who ate the rat
Lying dead upon the floor.
It wasnt me who shot the alien who ate the lion who ate the dog who ate the cat who ate the rat
Lying dead upon the floor
That gun which shot the alien which ate the lion who ate the dog who ate tthe cat who ate the rat
Lying dead upon the floor
I tell you who it was who killed them all
Twas my friend named Paul
poem by Conor Ross
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The End Of The World
Go if you want to
I never tried to stop you
Know there's a reason
For all of this you're feeling
Low, it's not my call
You couldn't ever love me more
You couldn't love me more
You couldn't love...
Me - I don't show much
It's not that hard to hide you
See in a moment
I can't remember how to
Be all you wanted
I couldn't ever love you more
I couldn't love you more
I couldn't love...
You want me to cry and play my part
I want you to sigh and fall apart
We want this like everyone else
Stay if you want to
I always wait to hear you say
There's a last kiss
For all the times you run this way
It's not my fault
You couldn't ever love me more
You couldn't love me more
You couldn't love...
Love me more
Couldn't ever love me more
I couldn't love you more
I couldn't love
You want me to lie not break your heart
I want you to fly not stop and start
We want us like everything else
Maybe we didn't understand
Not just a boy and a girl
It's just the end of the
End of the world
Me - I don't say much
It's far too hard to make you
See in a moment
I still forget just how to
Be all you wanted
I couldn't ever love you more
I couldn't love you more
I couldn't love you more
I couldn't love you more
I couldn't love you more
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Doors You Can't See
The strangest things about these doors.
When they're shut.
You can't say one thing more.
They're always carried around by those ones
That have seen lots of abuse?
For which... there really was no excuse.
Yet, when you love or care or are married
To one of those... that were forced to live there!
It's hard to prove.. that you really care....
Because when they perceive... or think something is not just right.
They back up,
Slamming those doors(bang) in your face, tight!
Or when you see that blank face.
Here comes the door's.
And all you can do is stand there.. stare...
At the crying... helplessly... and more...
Waching... unable to do anything
As tears fall on the floor...
I know it's perceived... the doors that you cannot see....
The doors shutting and slamming... in your face....
But... so is the battle with time...
With you winning that race...
Or that old statement....
How they had egg on their face....
You can't actually see it....
Yet...just like that door
It's.....really.. there..................
poem by Clyde Bryson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Charcoal Night
On a charcoal night the owl calls.
On a charcoal night wolves sharpen their claws.
On a charcoal night children shake with fear.
The charcoal night is growing near.
On a charcoal night the demon dogs sing.
On a charcoal night the little stars gleam.
On a charcoal night the air goes cold.
The nightmares and stories are always told.
On a charcoal night wolves wet their fangs.
On a charcoal night the owls call rang.
On a charcoal night the beasts are out.
On a charcoal night this is their town.
On a charcoal night lock up the doors.
On a charcoal night don't sleep on the floors.
On a charcaol night say good bye to those dear.
Because the charcaol night is finally hear.
poem by Okami Kamikaze
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Anonymous Alcoholic
You walk in the room
The folks are all there
With glasses in hand
But you can't take the band
So you head for the bar
The barman's well stocked
He knows where you're at
He offers a drink
But you can't take none of that
(No you can't take none of that)
Everybody's having fun
So why be the one
Who's out in the cold
It's not good enough
You made a deal with yourself
You said you'd never take another drop
Your craving's big, your livers shot
You'd give a million for a solitary drop
You take your first belt
It tastes like pure hell
The second one drops
Intentions are shot
Well you think you might as well
You take another sip
You get to likin' it
The music sounds hip
So you head for the floor
(So you head for the floor)
Yea yea yea yea yea
Well you step out on the dance floor
And you grab at your boss's wife
You've been longing to hold her close
For the whole of your working life
And the band played on
Move your ass
Well your hostess is lookin' mad
As your hands start to wander
And your boss is gonna get you now
He's gonna put you six feet under
You get walked out the door
And your feet don't touch the floor
You're never gonna see 'em no more
The dawn starts to break
Your heads a big ache
You're lyin' in bed
You're back from the dead
And your mouth feels like old leather
(Old leather)
Never do it again
(You'll never do it again)
Everyone was havin' fun
But you were the one
Kicked out in the cold
You slept in your clothes
You let 'em down
Down at the club
You know your confidence got to take the rub
Your boss is sore
You've had your chance
He says he never wants to see you again
Don't wanna see you again
(Don't wanna see you again)
You've got to dry out
The boys have found out
It's the end of the line
But it's martini time
So you head for the bar..r...r..r..r..r
song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This House Is Not For Sale
Tell 'em that the house is not for sale
We're still livin' here, how come nobody can tell
They're takin' all the furniture, movin' our things
Come on little honey, put your head on my knee
Tell 'em that the house is not for sale
And calm down, calm down, calm down
Calm down, calm down, calm down
Do you remember when we even bought this thing?
I danced you across the wooden floor and you signed the lease
What happened in the car that night?
What happened in the car that night?
Tell 'em that the house is not for sale
And calm down, calm down, calm down
Calm down, calm down, calm down
Calm down
Tell 'em that the house is not for sale
We could grab a couple sheets, yeah, give 'em quite a scare
I remember lyin' on the bedroom floor
You were holding me, little honey, kissin' my soul
Tell 'em that the house is not for sale
And calm down, calm down, calm down
Calm down, calm down, calm down
Calm down
Calm down
song performed by by Ryan Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ghosts
Stay with me for a little while youve nowhere to go and Ive nowhere to go it makes me so happy when you smile at me work all your life and you end up with nothing live in one room like a bum o
Flew in a plane and I fought in a war we lived in a castle and slept on the floor and I dont want to be all alone anymore Im sorry out in the street theres little colored kids playing where
N little boy used to play so I sit in this chair and I ache with the gout and I talk to myself cause Im scared to go out and I just want to know what was it all about Im sorry
song performed by by Randy Newman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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