Of blue and white cords-Anagram Poem
Two-faced, lush, dire nob.
Dear witch fouled snob
The wonderful, acid sob
Chief rat wounded slob
Touch! Refined, sad blow
Deft and slouchier bow
Found cries deathblow
Bounced hardiest flow
Of blundered chaos wit
Boldfaced whores unit
Self-wounded, cobra hit
Wonderful codes habit
Forbidden law touches
Fund bloodier watches
In awful odder botches,
Foul and bored witches
Wiser and foul botched.
Hatred if slow bounced
Arch-foe bout swindled
A witch of so blundered
My poem is the anagram of the title.Moreover, the title is a line of the poem
''Blue and White'' by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge (1861-1907)
poem by Marieta Maglas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
A Ode Poem To You
My mother gave me an ode poem, oh how I love that poem
The scene of her perfume on it, the picture of me in her arms
This letter I keep with me all the time, I love it so much I sleep with it under my pillow
To her nice hand writing, to the black ink she wrote in, she wrote until her ink went low
My poem is great, my poem is wonderful, to the white paper she wrote on it’s beautiful
To the green words of the title, my poem she gave me is the best
I love how she gave the lip stick print on the top of my poem, sad to say she's at rest
I will always love the poem she gave to me before she passed
To the words in the poem she gave me will always endure
Word by word my lovely poem is speaking to me gratefully
This ode poem was from my mom and for only me sincerely
I love my poem, oh how wonderful it can be
Its so wonderful do you want to read,
Take a look, take a look and you will see
poem by Twilight Simmons
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Starts/Ends/Thoughts/Randoms of Poem that Are in Progress
Poem title: Unknown 1
Like a line in a song
Like a letter in word
Poem title: Unknown 2
Keeps you sane
But keeps the pain
Poem title: Unknown 3
Starved for help
Thirsty to be free
Poem title: Free
So turn the key
and unlock the door
set your self free
from this cage
Open the door
and let yourself through
poem by Jenn Koning
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Want To Be A Real Big Witch
You want to really be a witch?
Well...
I knew some pretty wicked witches,
Who...
Made me pitch to them,
Many a fit.
And I split.
You want to be a real big witch,
Well...
I knew some pretty wicked witches,
Who...
Made me pitch to them,
Many a fit.
And I split.
You want to be the biggest at the ball of all witches,
Don't you?
You do.
Don't you.
You do.
Don't you.
You do.
And you're proving it too!
You do.
You want to be the biggest at the ball of all witches...
Don't you?
You do.
Don't you?
You want to be a real big witch,
Don't you?
You want to be the biggest at the ball of all witches.
You want to be a real big witch,
Don't you?
You want to be the biggest at the ball of all witches.
You want to be a real big witch,
Don't you?
You want to be a real big witch,
Don't you?
You want to be a real big witch,
Don't you?
You want to be a real big witch.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wounded
Well theres a whole lot of hurting being going on
Well Ive been wounded, wounded, wounded
This aint no way to be carrying on
You see me wounded, wounded, wounded
Im taken like a stone
That youve thrown in the deep blue sea
Giving me the scars that will never heal
Wounded, wounded, wounded
I remember the day when you came up to me
Almost breaking on your knees
Said you needed me more than anything else
You really took me in
But itd make you feel good to know
Id do anything you say
Well forget that line cause I aint gonna play
Wounded, wounded, wounded
I remember the day when you came up to me
Almost breaking on your knees
Said you needed me more than anything else
You really took me in
But itd make you feel good to know
Id do anything you say
Well forget that line cause I aint gonna play
Wounded, wounded, wounded
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Poem Is Just A Poem
a poem is just a poem and if it is just a poem
it must be just a poem just like another poem
a poem is nothing but just a poem otherwise
it cannot be my poem; it may speak about
anything, or something, or about everything,
but my poem is just a poem just like anybody's
poem, which is just but a poem, like any other
poem, for a poem to be a poem it must just be
a poem: it has nothing to do with my love, and death
my life, or bliss, but as i have told you, once, twice
thrice, eat some rice, and be that wise, a poem is
just a poem, just like your poem. Why do you insist
on asking, what is happening to me? I am not a
poem, for i am but just the composer of the poem,
need i tell you again, that a poem is just a poem?
just like any other poem, which is just a poem
it is just a voice in my head that i have heard
someone comes and speaks and i listen so
this poem is not actually my poem but the poem
of someone else's: theirs not mine, from a mind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wonderful World
(d. fletcher / m. flett)
This is a wonderful day
Its as bright as a days ever been
There is a big yellow sun looking down
On a wonderful scene
Up in the blue sky birds fly
And sing our cares away
And out of each throat each note
Greets a wonderful day
There is the sound of a symphony
Carried along on the breeze
Even the flowers are swaying in time
With the leaves on the trees
Heaven is found right here on the earth
It surrounds us in the wonderful things all around
In this wonderful wonderful
Wonderful wonderful world
This is a wonderful day
Its as bright as a days ever been
There is a big yellow sun looking down
On a wonderful scene
Heaven is found right here on the earth
It surrounds us in the wonderful things all around
In this wonderful wonderful
Wonderful wonderful world
Wonderful world, this wonderful world
Wonderful world, this wonderful world
Wonderful world, this wonderful world
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Poem
THIS POEM
This poem
This first poem
This last poem
This poem that invented Poetry
This one and only one poem
This fictional poem
This ideal poem
This perfect poem
This would – be holy poem
This unreal poem
This poem which is not a poem
This poem which is the essence of all poetry
This poem
And that poem
And my poem
And your poem
And all poems
Poem poem poem poem poem
This poem
Mine and yours
This one small poem of so so many
And not such a good poem at all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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So Near, Yet So Far
With each new day that comes along
my heart bursts out with another song
of love and longing for that which is
always calling me like an eternal whiz.
'So near yet so far' is a term often used
to describe the distance which is abused
between us and that which is our goal
and all we have to do is realise our soul.
We'll find sooner or later the Treasured Pearl
around which all of our existence does whirl.
___________________________________
Note:
This poem appears in my unpublished book along with two other poems on the same page under the title of 'Three By Ten'. I have herein given it a new title for this submission.
Please see also my other poem titled 'Within Us'.
poem by George Krokos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nameology
Here is a poem mine
Its body it's words
Its name its title
A figure out of my think
But not contented
How am I to correct
My mind orders-
'change the title'
For namesake
poem by Indira Renganathan
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A gaoler instead of a gaol bird-anagram poem
If adorable as adore gloating
Adorable, original, fatso aged;
Good! A safe, adorable trailing,
A dear goofball as originated.
Good! A fair stale load bearing
Adorable of egalitarian dogs,
Fool database or agile daring
A feared aboriginal toad logs.
Alas! Good of aged libertarian;
Alas! Fair, dogged elaboration;
Ago glorified adorable Satan;
So flailed garbage adoration;
Or a garbage, fool and idealist
Of laggard ideas elaboration;
A fool, adorable, daring ageist
Bolder, ga-ga falsie adoration;
Good God! Ease fatal librarian,
Fool ga-ga, idle, sad aberration;
Good! A bold fears egalitarian
Flag, adores ideal abrogation;
Good! Safe, adorable, liar, giant;
Star, ga-ga ideal, fool debonair;
As adored fair, boogie, gallant;
Agile odor and sabotage flair.
The title is a line of the poem ''Wages'' by D.H. Lawrence. The poem is the anagram of the title.
poem by Marieta Maglas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gen The Witch
The witch broods
In the middle of her self-centred, self-limiting
Tangled web of lies, half-truths and self-deception;
Ventures forth only to capture and envenom the unwary, the unknowing.
Their minds ingested by the witch,
Her progeny, indulged in baubles, chocolate and late-night television
Are ever by the maternal sac
Imbibing further indoctrination and instruction.
The witch, the witch, the witch.
poem by Mill Field
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poem.
I do not like the silly poem,
I do not like the angsty poem,
I do not like the ridiculous poem,
I do not like the damned poem,
I do not like the cheesy poem,
I do not like the random poem,
Or the epic poem,
Or the dandy poem,
Or the long poem,
Or the short poem,
Or the stupid poem,
Or the rude poem,
Or the useless poem,
Or the wordless poem,
Or the poem poem,
Or the poem poem's daughter,
Or the word, Poem,
I like the story.
poem by Aisha Patterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poem.
I do not like the silly poem,
I do not like the angsty poem,
I do not like the ridiculous poem,
I do not like the damned poem,
I do not like the cheesy poem,
I do not like the random poem,
Or the epic poem,
Or the dandy poem,
Or the long poem,
Or the short poem,
Or the stupid poem,
Or the rude poem,
Or the useless poem,
Or the wordless poem,
Or the poem poem,
Or the poem poem's daughter,
Or the word, Poem,
I like the story.
poem by David Carter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Should Have Finished His Unfinished Poem
the poem was panting
when he left it, it was wounded and blood
flowed from the veins
of its own words
the poem was choking
and you pity it
on its last breath
it was saying
i know you did not love me
but i still love you
you should have saved the poem
at least from the
death he himself inflicted
by finishing it because
if you don't
you know what i can do
under said circumstances
i'll have to finish it myself,
i will put
the question mark
and it will always be
open and endless
in fact, with a question
as an ending
that poem becomes
a line
ad aeternum like a star on its
journey,
never ending
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Make A Poem A Poem?
What makes a poem a poem
Is it the story it tells
The feeling it sells.
what makes a poem a poem
is it the history it shows
or the letters of word flow
do the lines mater it they rhyme
or not, can it be free verse of
abcabc line schem,
What makes a poem a poem
is it the words i repeat
Or the emotion they cove.
What makes a poem a poem
Poem Of The Afternoon
Poem of the afternoon
What do you have to say for yourself?
You are tired and you want a nap
But it’s too late for a nap
We must be going-
Poem of the afternoon
Say something different
Say life is wonderful
On a warm day after many cold ones
Say life is wonderful
When you can still walk and talk and move about
Though you are older than you ever thought you’d be-
Poem of the afternoon
Cloudy and a bit sunny
Say the night is still a certain way off
And the day the long day is still happily with us.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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This Is Worse
have you been rollinsmoking cigarettes here
are you a lot like like me
cos I haven't seen anyone like you here
are you a lot like me
This is worse
Cos some people say your a witch
but I don't believe them
cos I think you alive now
stop if you say your a witch
I can't deny your a witch
I hate a witch
This is the worse one
I love you
song performed by by Idlewild
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Z'ma Mor (My Mother)
It was a rainy day
driving back home
the car steered me
towards you...
your grave
Can i ever forget
how much you liked rain?
The white wet marble of your grave
sparkled like your smile
Every falling drop
bounced to embrace me
I could feel you, and
how happy you were
but I could also hear you
say this very clearly
'Za Bachiya baraan de (Go my child, it's raining)
and you don't have an umbrella'
(Title and the verse translated are in Pashto language)
Razel the ice-witch song
Yes, I'm Razel the ice-witch, am evil and I'm ice blue,
Yes, I'm Razel the ice-witch, am evil and I can freeze you,
With my ice-device into an ice-cube!
I can freeze everything day or night!
I'm Razel the ice-witch and I'm sharp as ice!
I'm Razel the ice-witch, I'm evil and I'm bad,
I am Razel the ice-witch, I'm evil and I'm glad!
Because I can control your feelings thoughts and deeds,
Because I'm filled with spite and greed!
Yes, I'm Razel the ice-witch and I can freeze you just like that!
Yes, I can freeze you just like that! !
Uh, huh, huh, huh!
Written by Suzaria Star on June 3,1999
www.razelpuppet.com www.razel.us
www.suzaria.com
poem by Suzaria Star
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Title
Give a title
Pursue it.
Giving title is in your hand
After giving title it is you
To go behind it.
Through this title
You are going to search truth
And the secret of truth
Though the title is
Not based on truth.
Title given on imagination
And imaginary world is not real world.
Without imagination
You can not go anywhere
You can not achieve anything.
It is your imagination
That pull and push you.
From the starting
You are wandering
With the title
You have given.
Unless you forget
All that are yours
You can not reach me.
Go not with anything.
Come to me only
Come to me in empty.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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