En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Fa

You too, rich enabler, have slid into the gray of memory
with no captions and no forwarding address
convincing us that most lives lived before the fall of such
are mere decorations of themselves and therefore waste;
that only in life lived 'round the corner, in vacuity,
is truth, (always what we define it) makeable, so valid,
anyway, and truly affordable.
Still and all, of legacies chary, we've got to pay the bills.
We are well-worn trails, drinking small, Dutch beers from
styrofoam cups one could have predicted. Now what is
Truth, ducky? And whose shall we moon-like, reflect-
decide after hours of thinking isn't? Gone enabler, I am
yours: was, wasn't, year by year, am and am not, taking and
forfeiting crystalline youth, so hail you, dear, and farewell.

poem by Morgan Michaels
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Bad Influence

We were loners floating through the city
Searching for the hand that feeds
We were the fresh kids
With the spikes and sneakers
Blasting through the speakers

I'll stop thinking about you
If you agree to lock me out
You mattered the most
Now nothing matters less

You were more than a bad influence
To me
You were more than my enabler
You were more than rebellion and freedom
You were more than rage
You were more than darkness
You were more than an animal
You were more than a bad influence to me

Who cares if you hate me
You had the best of me
I loved the worst of you
We were the beasts
Roaming through the wilderness
We were the weight in the light of the world
We were the nerds that won mathletes

I'll stop thinking about you
If you agree to lock me out
You mattered the most
Now nothing matters less

You were more than a bad influence
To me
You were more than my enabler
You were more than rebellion and freedom
You were more than rage
You were more than darkness
You were more than an animal
You were more than a bad influence to me

I wear your memory like a scar
I wear your memory like a tatoo
I wear your memory
It stands in front of me
I wear it like a battle wound
My heart has been removed
And attached to my sleeve
I wear your memory

poem by Adia Parker
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Creation of a Truth Produced

With an undisturbed thirst,
To swallow anything...
Depicting adventure AND criminality,
Some will sit affixed to it.
While others 'turned on' by spirituality...
Do not need a convincing,
Fed the media on their TV screens.

Whether or not evidence obtained,
Entertain those enthralled.
There is a life lived one lives based on truth.
While many are persuaded,
By a creation of a truth produced.
The difference being?
A truth that God delivers can not be faked!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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On Himself

A wearied pilgrim I have wander'd here,
Twice five-and-twenty, bate me but one year;
Long I have lasted in this world; 'tis true
But yet those years that I have lived, but few.
Who by his gray hairs doth his lustres tell,
Lives not those years, but he that lives them well:
One man has reach'd his sixty years, but he
Of all those three-score has not lived half three:
He lives who lives to virtue; men who cast
Their ends for pleasure, do not live, but last.

poem by Robert Herrick
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The King [ I ]

AMONG the sons of Englishmen
Full many feel like real tears,
For, though he reigned but scarcely ten,
He bore the burden many years.
He lived the dead past doubly down,
He shamed, by manliness and truth,
The lies that beat about a crown,
And round a known man in his youth.

For he had lived as men have done
Since Adam’s time, to prove them true.
He proved it in his manhood’s prime,
And to the end, as strong men do.
And so he died, and, ever since,
And on through years the words shall ring:
“He lived a man, he lived a prince,
And died a gentleman and King.”

Unto the friends of his hot youth,
In his wise age, he still was true.
He showed, by steadfastness and truth,
What kings as well as men can do;
Till all was manlike or forgot,
Long years ere he found his release;
He made them loyal who were not,
He won respect, and kept the peace.

poem by Henry Lawson
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Coming To The Truth

Instead of going to the moon
these people can come to the truth soon.

Instead of going to the moon-
and spending a fortune-
to tap the helinium abundant from the moon-
these people can come to the truth soon.

Instead of going to the moon-
and waiting for fifty long years-
to reap this benefit from the moon-
these people can come to the truth soon.

Instead of going to the moon-
these people can come to the truth soon
to tap the abundant wealth very soon.

What i s this 'truth'?
in a nation where mahatma lived-
in a nation where truth was personified by mahatma-
truth needs no definition.

poem by Samanyan Lakshminarayanan
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Goodbye Winter Goodbye Everybody

Winter has passed friends will go
this year is gone along with the snow
this was the year that everyone knows
this is the year that everyone goes

I'll try not to cry but I'll miss you all
but again I know the snow will fall
My memories will come back that I do know
As long as my life is lived in the snow

I try to hold it all in but it's hard not to cry
thinking about leaving watching the sky
Snowflakes will fall onto my head
I will remember everything you've said

The Joy, the Sadness, the Fun, the Pain
I can see my future from this strength
the future of me the future of the snow
it will all work out this I know

I said I wouldn't cry but this I did lie
This is really sad after all
We will make new friends
til' now and til' then

But for now I say goodbye
to you, to snow sky

poem by Travis Ciempa
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The War Hero

He sat at the bar, drinking his Jack
Talking about the war, since he came back
It ruined his mind, and broke his spirit too
He had seen alot of death among his crew
He drank till he didn't have to think at all
He drank till he couldn't hear the bugal call
When not drinking, he was taking so many pills
Disabled now, his wife paying all the bills
His very soul was tortured all the time
From crawling in the jungle in the dirt and slime
Hearing the shots fired every where
He was shooting too, just a boy there
He lived the war over every night in his dreams
In his sleep he could still his buddies screams
The war took a young boy and ruined his life
But he was proud, he had served in all the strife
This good man died just a year ago
He fought for our freedom and we do owe
Our freedom takes the life of young men
They serve their country and most come home again
All their lives will never be the same
Some will return whole and some lame
I'm proud to be a citizen of the USA
Where we're strong and proud and will never sway!

poem by Donna Nimmo
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Something Special

I always ask myself
What's between you and me
A step
Or miles
Or just the ocean
A year
Or ten
Or a whole generation
But does it really matter
Do I have to care
What's between you and me
In time orspace
Yet when I pass by there
I can't but ask myself
What's a dear place
When no one dear is here
Is it a life
We lived true
Or a long breathless breath
Then death
It was not just the air
That breathed between you and me
There had been 'something special'
Here now remains a dear memory
That lives in motion
But will I ever come to know
What fine threads of emotion
That had always tied us
Together free.

May be one day
I can
I will
Tell me
Tell you
What has always been
A 'something special'
Between you and me
Today for now
Enough for me
I'm sure I know
Whatever it be
Very well I know
It was
It is
It has been
True!

poem by Eman Elbadawi
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The Spring And The Fall

In the spring of the year, in the spring of the year,
I walked the road beside my dear.
The trees were black where the bark was wet.
I see them yet, in the spring of the year.
He broke me a bough of the blossoming peach
That was out of the way and hard to reach.

In the fall of the year, in the fall of the year,
I walked the road beside my dear.
The rooks went up with a raucous trill.
I hear them still, in the fall of the year.
He laughed at all I dared to praise,
And broke my heart, in little ways.

Year be springing or year be falling,
The bark will drip and the birds be calling.
There's much that's fine to see and hear
In the spring of a year, in the fall of a year.
'Tis not love's going hurt my days.
But that it went in little ways.

poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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New Year

Farewell to the old year forever,
And all its sorrows and care
We'll bury in our hearts, and endeavor
New troubles and trials to bear.

The old year has gone with its sadness,
In oblivion to dwell evermore;
The new year will come with its gladness,
To welcome the rich and the poor.

Ah, welcome the new year with pleasure,
And welcome home friends, that is dear;
Be happy and joyful together,
And greet each happy new year.

Some people will meet in sadness,
For death has entered their home,
And robbed them of joy and gladness,
And left them forsaken and lone.

Young people not meet it in sorrow,
For their hearts are blithesome and gay,
Trouble will come with to-morrow,
So let them be happy to- day.

Farewell to the old year forever;
Lay its sorrows aside with a tear.
Think of the future; and endeavor
To greet each happy new year.

poem by Julia A Moore
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The Wood-Pile

Out walking in the frozen swamp one gray day,
I paused and said, "I will turn back from here.
No, I will go on farther -- and we shall see."
The hard snow held me, save where now and then
One foot went through. The view was all in lines
Straight up and down of tall slim trees
Too much alike to mark or name a place by
So as to say for certain I was here
Or somewhere else: I was just far from home.
A small bird flew before me. He was careful
To put a tree between us when he lighted,
And say no word to tell me who he was
Who was so foolish as to think what he thought.
He thought that I was after him for a feather --
The white one in his tail; like one who takes
Everything said as personal to himself.
One flight out sideways would have undeceived him.
And then there was a pile of wood for which
I forgot him and let his little fear
Carry him off the way I might have gone,
Without so much as wishing him good-night.
He went behind it to make his last stand.
It was a cord of maple, cut and split
And piled -- and measured, four by four by eight.
And not another like it could I see.
No runner tracks in this year's snow looped near it.
And it was older sure than this year's cutting,
Or even last year's or the year's before.
The wood was gray and the bark warping off it
And the pile somewhat sunken. Clematis
Had wound strings round and round it like a bundle.
What held it though on one side was a tree
Still growing, and on one a stake and prop,
These latter about to fall. I thought that only
Someone who lived in turning to fresh tasks
Could so forget his handiwork on which
He spent himself, the labor of his ax,
And leave it there far from a useful fireplace
To warm the frozen swamp as best it could
With the slow smokeless burning of decay.

poem by Robert Frost
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The Dying Year

The year has been a tedious one--
A weary round of toil and sorrow,
And, since it now at last is gone,
We say farewell and hail the morrow.

Yet o'er the wreck which time has wrought
A sweet, consoling ray is shimmered--
The one but compensating thought
That literary life has glimmered.

Struggling with hunger and with cold
The world contemptuously beheld 'er;
The little thing was one year old--
But who'd have cared had she been elder?

poem by Eugene Field
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Where Is The Poem Of Penitence?

Where is the poem of Penitence
For the New Year?

While the majority of nations
Are vilifying and slandering Israel
While many working to destroy us
I write small poems about my own small pains -

I do not devote myself
To telling the truth of our life here
It may not be paradise
But among the nations and the armies
Israel certainly among the most decent
And in seeking Peace too more eager than most -

I who have lived here nearly forty years
Have not helped others see us as we are –
And in my writing have not been good enough.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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To Live

Alive!
Here!
Now!
In the year two thousand and twelve!
How good it is to be alive!
February 11th - hoping life goes well
A year that only we will live to experience!
A year that only we will have the pleasure to experience!
A year that only we will have the misfortune of experiencing!
Every day we hold dear!
Every day we fear!
Every day we sit in an indecisive stupor!
Trying to decide - whether this is our eternity
Or this is our hell
Every day we live!
Every day we give!
Every day we relish in sanctity!
We were chosen for this life!
Every day we relish in ourselves!
For we are life!
We are death!
We are concept!
We are end!
Fulfillment is well!
Our lives are only complete!
When we escape our hell!

poem by C.S. Smith
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Before Your Love

I wonder how I ever made it through a day
How did I settle for a world with shades of gray?
When you go in circles all the scenery looks the same
And you don't know why
Then I looked into your eyes
And the road stretched out in front of me
And I realized

Chorus:
I never lived
Before your love
I never felt
Before your touch
I never needed anyone to make me feel alive
But then again
I wasn't really living
I never lived
Before your love

I wanted more than just an ordinary life
All of my dreams seemed like castles in the sky
I stand before you and my heart is in your hands
And I don't know how
I survived without your kiss
Cause you've given me a reason to exist

Chorus

I never lived before your love

And I don't know why
Why the sun decides to shine
But you breathed your love into just in time

I never lived
Before your love
I never felt
Before your touch
I never needed anyone to make me feel alive
But then again
I wasn't really living
I never lived
I never lived
Before your love

song performed by by Kelly Clarkson from American Idol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Felt Inside, Known And Not Hiding

Wholesome expressions delivered,
May be great to hear from podiums raised...
By those speaking from prepared speeches.
To have those listening needing a boost,
With a lifting done coming from roaring cheers.

There is a truth that is lived,
And inescapable it is.
For those who know it is not in disguise,
To eliminate or compromise...
What is felt inside, known and not hiding.

A truth that is lived,
Isn't waiting for the next speech heard.
Or standing in line,
To select from a multitude of choices offered.
A truth lived and once picked becomes one's commitment.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Song to Meggie Dear!

Oh Meggie, you’re a dear;
It seems you lived in fear;
A poem gave you tear;
I feel so sad to hear!

But, God is always near;
We are but weaklings mere;
With God always in rear,
Be happy through the year.
For, Jesus is Savior! x3

poem by John Celes
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You Can't Define The Single Life

You can't define the single life.
Unless you're doing it.
And not for kicks.

Sometimes it's not that much well liked.
When you are on the telephone.
Just to hang up all alone.

You can't define the single life.
Unless you're doing it.
And not for kicks.

Sometimes it's not that much well liked.
When you are on the telephone.
Just to hang up all alone.

On my drifting mind with the hours,
I stay awake.
I'm thinking nothing but love.
And sipping coffee out of focus,
Hoping that your thoughts are on me.
I'm thinking nothing but love.

You can't define the single life...
Thinking of love.
A lusting mind has appetites...
Thinking of love.
It's hard to fall asleep some nights.
Thinking of love.
You can't define the single life...
Thinking of love.
A lusting mind has appetites...
Thinking of love.
It's hard to fall asleep some nights.
It's hard to fall asleep some nights.
It's hard to fall asleep some nights.
Thinking of love.

You can't define the single life...
Thinking of love.
A lusting mind has appetites...
Thinking of love.
It's hard to fall asleep some nights.
Thinking of love.
You can't define the single life...
Thinking of love.
A lusting mind has appetites...
Thinking of love.
It's hard to fall asleep some nights.
It's hard to fall asleep some nights.
It's hard to fall asleep some nights.
Thinking of love.
You can't define the single life...
Thinking of love.

You can't define the single life...
Thinking of love.
You can't define the single life...
Thinking of love.
It's hard to fall asleep some nights.
It's hard to fall asleep some nights.
You can't define the single life...
Thinking of love.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Had I Not Stayed With You

now i live not a moment of each tear
my eyes so dry to see me clear
for this year
it were all pain of no care
a year
of struggles but no pay
that never did come my way
a year
of plain and square
a season of gain but so unfair

for had i not stayed with you so near
the blame; all within the air
thou lived not in fear
and lived of no fear
with you not so near
the one little voice unclear
crying for me in tear
but help not i offered my dear
distanced by thoughts not with you
and you see not what fits you
but rather dwell in astray to defeat you

had i not shared with you
all that i had with you
had i not admired you
all that i treasured were you
had i not smiled with you
had i not tried with you
memories faded away with you
the roar in your voice;
left me so bare and lame
the soul to mine were not the same
and need(ed) me not with you

but, had i not stayed with you
the history of mine without you
demands a journey to my own
and you not so near
the blame; all within the air
thou lived not in fear
and lived of no fear
with you not so near
the one little voice unclear
as you faded away without care

opn11112011/0356

'had i not stayed with you'
from **patterns of life**
november 2011

onalethuso petruss ntema

poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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It is Inevitable

Accepted or not.
Deceived or manipulated,
To replace it with dishonesty.
Truth.
When it is revealed,
Can no longer be concealed.
Or interpreted for something it is not.

And regretting not to have embraced it,
When that opportunity comes.
To have it faced,
Does not change the integrity of those
Who have known and lived the truth.
When opposition displays its evil.

Although,
Those who have based their lives.
On lies told as they lived,
Are the ones haunted by their misdeeds.
Observed as seen.

Leaving truth shown to be spoken and known,
Eventually winning all battles!
It is inevitable that an evil is chased away.
Once the masquerading of it has been exposed.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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