A Look Of Split Hair
a lock of split hair
rests on the fusion of uranium eyes
scaled for its weight
scolded for its freedom
it'll wind with the smoke
of snake forgotten wisdom
around the trees blast felled down
end up in an atom
no poem can describe
rest silence closed
in the medallion of God
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Snake Eye
You paint a picture
So its plain to see
Aint no hiding
No security
Ill be watching
Every move you make
When you hear the rattle
Better be awake
Chorus:
Snake eyes, Im watching
Snake eyes, look out
Snake eyes, its coming
Snake eyes, aint no escaping from the snake eye
(no way)
You leave a footprint
For my eye to see
Catch an echo
From a lock and key
From the shadow
Or behind a rock
Get you anywhere
From the darkest shack
Chorus
Hear a rustle
From behind a tree
Get you running
Home to sanctuary
Bolt the door and -
You think youre safe
Im coming to get you
Gonna reach out (? ? ? )
Chorus
Got the snake eyes, they call me a snake in the bush
Snake eyes, biting
Snake eyes, always watching
Snake eyes
Aint no escaping from the -
Just keep a lookout for the -
Snake eye
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet LXXIII: Maybe you'll remember
Maybe you'll remember that razor-faced man
who slipped out from the dark like a blade
and - before we realized - knew what was there:
he saw the smoke and concluded fire.
The pallid woman with black hair
rose like a fish from the abyss,
and the two of them built up a contraption,
armed to the teeth, against love.
Man and woman, they felled mountains and gardens,
then went down to the river, they scaled the walls,
they hoisted their atrocious artillery up the hill.
Then love knew it was called love.
And when I lifted my eyes to your name,
suddenly your heart showed me my way.
poem by Pablo Neruda
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Alamo Moment Birth Phoenix
Alamo moment birth in phoenix
pyre eyes stirs heart of freedom
loving men to battle cry freedom
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
This poem is a split image from the poem ‘An Egyptian Freedom Falcon Flies Battle Cry Freedom’.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Waiting Of What Comes Next....
the hurry into
the room and the sudden
closing of the door
and windows
simultaneously
cannot as yet be
explained
the wind knows what
ripe time is
every golden grain
counts and
mounts upon a stalk
telling a story
to the humus layer
of this soil
the master is seated
facing a wall
eyes closed
it sees well what comes
next
comfortable now
every bit of an atom
has a carried
explanation
every vibration is
love
the wind goes to
another
place leaving silence
satisfied
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
~~~I want to cry~~~~
I want to cry
Why he scolded me
I want to cry
I am sad
Why?
Why my boss scolded me
I treat my patients very compassionately
I feel relieved when they get better
I am very obedient to my work
I am sad
I want to cry
I am obedient to my profession
My teachers
My mom
Why they scolded me
I am not towards commercial medicine
The scolded me not doing “investigations”
I never do unnecessary investigations
But, he insulted my teachers
I am sad
I want to cry
Please my eyes don’t cry
I want to cry
poem by Kolitha Lelwala
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Playing With Uranium
In for an evening, of lite entertainment
and who would believe you, could worry the neighbor
Come on over to my place, playing with uranium
If it blows up in your face, see you on the other side
Come on over to my place, playing with uranium
Reinvent the human race, you just got the invitation
We go undiscovered, cause people are careless
One way or another, they'll never forget us
Come on over to my place, playing with uranium
If it blows up in your face, see you on the other side
Come on over to my place, playing with uranium
Reinvent the human race, you just got the invitation
Playing with uranium, playing with uranium
Never be the same again
Cause they're playing with uranium,
Playing with uranium, playing with uranium
song performed by by Duran Duran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Immoral Scars...
i am the broken watch,
on the underpaid desk.
the eyes grown dim,
the hair turned grey.
the endless chapters,
each named, then forgotten.
the wings of the bird,
killed by the cat.
the shoebox of letters,
the paint peeled wall.
the taste of old whiskey,
the fireplace full of ghosts.
swallows in the chimney,
snake skins on the ground.
the song of autumn,
waiting beyond the moment.
the sprinkle of rain,
the silence of the trees.
the brush of the hand,
so intimate it startles.
the moral heart with immoral scars.
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Love Of Light....
upon the window of trees
i rest my weary eyes, the aches dissipate on the leaves
my forehead rests on the hands of the wind,
i lean upon the walls of this house
the comfort zone of the mind
the roof beats like a heart and opens its breast
to the soft touches of the clouds
happier in blue
and then the black birds come with the sweeter sounds
of the flapping of their wings
how happy is this state
of my soul
sitting upon the friendly bone of my body
the light of the sun
lands upon my hair
i am as always and will always be
its respecter and
friend.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Defining The Kind Of Silence He Needs
it is like the silence of an empty room
not keeping anything
not holding
not gripping hands
or gnashing teeth
the windows are not closed
or the doors
to keep a hounding silence
it is a silence with still air
you hear me breathing in
and out
of my nostrils
nothing kept like grudges
nothing hidden like
some disappointments
it is the silence that heals
that gathers strength
the silence of your gratitude
the silence that rests
the silence
of the soul in solitude
the silence of peace
one that looks out
to the grandeur yet to come
one that waits patiently
the silence of
glory
godlike
humane, and seeks to understand
the one that drives
confusion away
like a bird
nesting its eggs for days
on a stable branch
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Poem Is Going On Now
THE POEM IS GOING ON NOW
The poem is going on now
The poem is this walk
This wind this light these trees
The poem is going on now
Life
Just being alive now
Is suddenly everything I ever wanted
This wind this day
This life this world
This quiet Yerushalmi street
The poem is going on now.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Impatient Poem
A poem with an attitude
Turned up at half-past-three,
It woke me up and said, 'Hey, dude,
It's time for poetry! '
I wrote nine poems yesterday,
Those guys give me no rest...
I slithered out of bed O.K.
And stayed there, unimpressed...
Now almost dozing, lay there still,
How long, I know not when,
Then crawled across the carpet till
I found paper and pen...
The poem prodded, like they do,
Impatient like they are,
All ready with its point of view
To broadcast near and far...
So there I was, with one eye closed,
The first line on the page,
My body slumped and strangely posed
At this most awkward stage...
The first verse came, eight, six, eight, six,
The syllables in form,
While I lay there, as cold as bricks,
Fatigued, no longer warm...
But onward, ever onward, I,
Began the second verse,
To finish this before I die,
If things should get much worse...
The third verse started very well,
I smiled at what it meant
And even giggled for a spell,
Like it was Heaven-sent...
The final verse, at last, at last,
The poem shook my hand,
'Well done, my friend, that was a blast!
I knew you'd understand! '
With that, the poem paused in prayer,
'I couldn't ask for more! '
'That's great! ' I said, eyes closed, right there,
Then slept upon the floor!
Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2012.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Y..... The Biggest Freedom
I pray for love
We are all bathing in it
We just have to open our hearts,
to open our minds
And let it in
The biggest freedom is ours
To let it in or lock it out
I pray for hope
We are swimming in it
We just have to open our hearts
to open our souls
And let it in
The biggest freedom is ours
To let it in or lock it out
I pray for wisdom,
We are soaking in it
We just have to open
To open our minds
And let it in
The biggest freedom is ours
To let it in or lock it out
I pray for spirit
We are swimming in it
Let our selves drown in the huge love
the huge wisdom and spirit
that is around us all time
poem by Aufie Zophy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Vanaprasthiya
Their grandchild’s silken first hair
brushed with tender love;
their own hair, grey or white or gone;
household handed over to
their son, daughter, or
their spouse; now,
to find again themselves, to be themselves;
free, they walk the morning air of freedom
towards the woods; upon the way,
meet others of their age.
Trees - as every child knows
and old men may remember;
old women see through their own children's eyes -
listen with such silent wisdom,
that among the trees,
all become wise.
And so they, the honoured aged,
meet, acknowledge, greet,
speak as many words as truth may draw;
meditate; then, open eyes and every sense
teach, this is what a temple is;
this is what you are.
Evening stillness; then they return
to the hearth and warmth of family; as
a great grove of ancient, fresh-leafed trees
where in stillness soul meets nature
and finds truth arise.
*
[With thanks to Sunil Bhattacharya for some hints of history]
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Moonlight Sonata
The Moonlight Sonata
coaxes light through the window
a warm glow is between us.
Then air turns to ash and
we close our eyes.
Once when we could still see,
there were hands between us.
One a teacup, the kind saved
for the careful company
the other a nesting bird
enveloping, gentle, weightless.
I could feel in your arms
steel bands that hummed
with precision over a vast
network of machinery,
driving one day into the next.
The smell of heat hung on you,
white heat, blast furnace heat.
Skin seared to ochre, a badge,
medallion, a sign of your time.
The heavy scent of oil, grease
and solvents hung like
a shroud around your shoulders.
The shoulders from where I could
see a world shaped by the will
of your vision,
the will of your back.
I could see your hair
black, curled, swept back
by the wind or tide as
you leaned in to stand your ground
or go under for the third time.
The leather chair smelled of
smoke and grass. I could
wait for you there while you
slept, slumped, heavy breath
moist, warm on the back of
my neck.
Then our eyes are open
you speak, finally, your voice
is soft and hollow the way
mourning doves purr as the
streetlights go out. All the
sadness and regret is in your eyes
so your voice can carry across
the room to meet the music halfway.
I hold your hand like a teacup
the taste of ash, the grit, on
my tongue. I wish for wind
any expansion of air so I can see
light through the window and
feel again
the warm glow between us.
poem by Ronald Shields
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Freedom Is…
Freedom…
Freedom…
What is freedom?
It’s a footprint in the sand…
A whisper on the wind.
It’s a thought…
An emotion.
It’s a choice…
A gift.
Freedom is what freedom is.
Freedom is a pot on the stove…
The water in a glass.
It’s a smile on a mouth…
A tear on the cheek.
It’s a choice…
A gift.
Freedom is what freedom is.
Freedom is a breeze in your hair…
The heat in the air.
It’s the heart in your chest…
The veins in your arms.
It’s a choice…
A gift.
Freedom is what freedom is.
What is freedom?
Freedom is what freedom is.
poem by Stacey Stevens
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lost In Echo.....
you cut off my thumbs,
strung them on a necklace.
split my tongue with a razor,
and burned my shoes.
now i go howling,
in half darkened rooms.
drawn by the scent and the symphony,
of red pulsing blood!
you arched your back,
and the curtains trembled.
the vase full of water,
fell on your pillow.
i awoke from a dream,
my lips dry and aching.
moaned without thinking,
the willow bent, and sure!
who are we? the forgotten,
the silence lost in echo!
the tire worn thin,
the key left in the lock.
the bottle near empty,
on the edge of god's table...
the drum in the closet,
the nest blown by the wind!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Freedom on My Mind
The night before wasn’t unlike many others, with the monkey on his back it’s hard to rest. His clothes are dirty, his hair’s a mess, but the marks on his arms, they tell it best.
And he woke up with freedom on his mind. Chains come in many shapes. He wants to run and leave it all behind. Somewhere safe, freedom on his mind.
The night before was just like all the rest in the 8 by 10 that he calls home. As a foolish young man he made a mistake. The thought that he’ll die here carries a heavy weight.
He wakes up with freedom on his mind, and all the things he left behind. Chains come in many shapes, there’s freedom on his mind.
The night before wasn’t unlike many others. He did it again and she’s so ashamed, as if it’s her fault, at least that’s what he told her. She says he’s better when he’s sober.
And she woke up with freedom on her mind. Chains come in many shapes. She wants to run and leave it all behind. Somewhere safe, yeah freedom on her mind.
I woke up with freedom on my mind. Though my chains are of another shape, I want to run, leave them behind, yeah freedom on my mind, there's freedom on my mind.
poem by Rob G. Gifford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mind Dance
I caught my reflection in the mirror
It was my own hand that ran through my hair,
I listened as my favorite artist crooned
Closed my eyes
Imagined your touch
There in the warmth of your lap,
I rest my head
My eyes stay closed
Your hand
The hand of love and warmth
Gently caresses my face,
My mouth
And slowly
Your fingers run through my hair
From the base of my roots
to the tips of the strand
You touch me,
And I am whole.
poem by Nancy Fischer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Let This One Poem Be About Me
Let this one poem be just about me
Let this one poem engulf all my beauty
Let this one poem define my soul
Let this one poem consume me whole
My soul was earth bound
And my heart lay in a place that it would never be found
Let this poem be what entangles my mind
Let this poem be where people will find
They will find that missing link
And this poem it will make them think
They will wonder how this girl came
They will wonder how I avoided fame
I didn’t write these words to please
I wrote these words to tease
My heart it’s the type that beckons for ease
And my taste will not accept the flavor of peas
Let this poem describe me in most simplest of ways
Let this poem show how I get through these days
And I know people will read this and say…
This girl she knew where heart lay…
Let this poem eat me whole
Let me entire heart bleed its luscious love into a broken bowl
My soul wanted only to be free
And this poem only pushed it back into me
I never will lose any part of my soul
Because then this world will swallow my inner being whole
Let this poem be what I hate
Let this poem describe with who I would mate
Let this thoughts become my ways
Let this poem be where I stray
Let this poem show how I lie
Let this poem describe how I will die
Yes I am human I cannot avoid death
Yes I am human I chose not to use meth
These words they dance upon this page
These words they have no age
These verses have lost all meaning
Because I revealed my demeaning
Let this poem describe what I deem right
Let this poem that I will always fight
My age floats through these words
And people will never understand why I want to be heard
Let this poem be only about me
Let this poem be what sets me free
And I know some day people will look at this and say…
This girl, this girl she knew exactly where her heart lay…
poem by Victoria Martinez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
This Poem..
This poem
was about to speak to you
assuming that there is a you right there and now
but
hesitated, a little unsure of itself
this poem
though all ready to be
a bouncy, Tiggerish, extravert sort of poem
is going instead to take a quiet moment for
introspection
this poem
remembers that computers are essentially
binary – built up of millions of yes-no choices
so
this poem
is above all,
yes;
hoping
in still a Tiggerish way, to hear you also, say
yes
this poem
finds that it has
certain hidden desires
which it rightly or wrongly
was going to lay on you
like
this poem
would like to tell you
something new which
you might or might not believe
until some time later
when you’d say
yes!
this poem
would like to touch your heart
(impertinently assuming
you might need aortic massage)
so that when you finished reading it,
you’d say
yes!
this poem
presumptuously
would like to enable you to
see the whole world with fresh eyes,
as if never before,
be the first day
of Creation for the
rest of your life
so that you'd say
yes yes yes
this poem
would love to
be Irish, throw magical, spellbinding words round you
like two hands throwing wild flowers
over you in a summer meadow,
looking into your eyes, laughing, kissing,
dancing over the green hills to blue skies hand in hand
enchanted with a life you’d passing forgotten,
always known, while time
is eternity and
you and I and all things are
yes, yes, yes and
yes
this poem
at this point
introspectively with a touch of humility
thinks
maybe it’s sufficient, purer,
just to want to
pass you in the street,
smile right into your eyes
maybe shake hands, even
kiss both cheeks how ever many times
and know that without necessarily
saying anything
the answer’s
yes
this poem
hopes it’s made its point
without mentioning
love or other well-known,
complicated things like that and
moreover it’s gone on long enough
because
this poem loves
what happens in silence
what happens in stillness
and just wanted to say
yes?
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!