The First Time II
'Well, well', he smiled, 'is that so'.
inviting me to look into his glittering, prescient, black eyes-
so much like mine, that said, like mine
'I am not what I seem'.
'I've written poems, too. We shall see'.
The shrubs half-exhaled in relief but remained vigilant.
He bellowed not, see.
No, he saw me in return
doubtless as a creature stuck in eternal, inarguable boyhood
like a fly fixed forever in amber;
boyhood like meanings, pictures that resonate and magnify-
amber like fun,
the boy who'd be the man who'd be Peter Pan
flight being one thing you can't argue with.
But he despared, I knew,
because I saw a cloud ascend his brow-
this was the suburbs after all.
'Whose fault...
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Related quotes
How cool the amber of the day.
How cool the amber of the day!
The quietness, the sway.
I slept the sleep of angels,
And felt newborn in the
Amber of the day.
Long live the sweet
Mysterious dusk
Of the amber light.
poem by Peter Vealey
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The First Time III
'Whose fault was this, anyway'?
'Nobody's', I assured him. 'Melpomene's'.
'Whose'?
'Melpomene's'.
'Oh, he slowly replied, content he'd had nothing to do with it.
Again, he nodded 'Oh', exhaling in relief,
as the shrubs in their beds relaxed their vigilance
and became inanimate objects, again-'oh'.
'Are you sure'?
Then we heard the gliss of a car pulling up
and the sound of tires crunching the gravel
in the driveway outside, and the car door open and shut
and the heavy footfall of my mother's high heels on the asphalt
returning from church, for it was Sunday, AM, late.
The sun hid itself behind a cloud.
Around it sang some angels.
The gate opened, the subject changed and we
by dint of secret understanding
began to talk about his boyhood in Boston
in such a difficult neighborhood.
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Captured Memory
stuck in a moment
a split second
a picture of joy or even lament
You may have smiled
or maybe not
without the picture you would of forgot
Stuck in a scapbook
stuck in time
I am the picture and the picture is mine
Forever in my memory
forever in my mind
I have my pictures of memory sealed and signed
A split second it was captured
Into my past
A way to remember, and a memory find
poem by Summer Song
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I Have Read Many Poems I Know I Never Could Have Written
I have read many poems I know I never could have written
Poems whose language was far richer and more remarkable than mine
Poems that saw as I cannot see and sounded as I cannot sound
Poems of magnificent music and many hidden meanings
I have read many poems greater than those I could ever write
And have been humbled and saddened and inspired by them
Out there somewhere else
There have been real poets
And I in my own little lines
Love and respect them.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Before I got my eye put out
327
Before I got my eye put out
I liked as well to see—
As other Creatures, that have Eyes
And know no other way—
But were it told to me—Today—
That I might have the sky
For mine—I tell you that my Heart
Would split, for size of me—
The Meadows—mine—
The Mountains—mine—
All Forests—Stintless Stars—
As much of Noon as I could take
Between my finite eyes—
The Motions of the Dipping Birds—
The Morning's Amber Road—
For mine—to look at when I liked—
The News would strike me dead—
So safer—guess—with just my soul
Upon the Window pane—
Where other Creatures put their eyes—
Incautious—of the Sun—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Amber Jean
Every morning got sun to shine
Every day got plenty of time
Every night theres a moon so fine
There for you, my amber jean.
Still some lines that should get crossed
Still some coins that might be tossed
Still some love that hasnt been lost
There for you, my amber jean.
Amber jean, oh, amber jean,
Prettiest eyes Ive ever seen.
Every morning got sun to shine
Every day got plenty of time
Every night theres a moon so fine
There for you, my amber jean.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nobodys Fault But Mine
Written by: page/plant
Nobodys fault but mine (x 2)
Trying to save my soul tonight
Its nobodys fault but mine
Devil he told me to roll (x2)
How to roll the log tonight
Nobodys fault but mine
Brother he showed me the gong?
Brother he showed me the ding dong ding dong
How to roll, the log tonight
Oh, its nobodys fault but mine
Got a monkey on my back. (x 2)
Gonna change my ways tonight
Nobodys fault but mine
I will get down rollin tonight
Nobodys fault
song performed by by Black Crowes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dad A life
My father is gone, gone to his grave
Carried away on an amber wave
It was his heart they say so strong, so brave
A heart that was crushed beneath an amber wave
My father is gone, gone in a flash
Washed away on an amber wave
The strong young man he was burned to ash
Ash that was washed away by an amber wave
My father is gone, gone this day
Taken away on an amber wave
Leaving nothing but heart ache and dismay
My Troubled Mind
am lost in this world
of mine stuck in time
as everything slows down
with so much on my mind
as i search round and round
searching for answers
as too why what happen, happens
i was told to choose but remained
silent as my eyes filled up
but my chicks remain dry
visions cloud my mind
as rage replaces all emotion
i feel your pain so i burden my self
but u cant feel mine cause
i hold it all inside to my self
poem by Robert Roberts
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The Old Gentleman With The Amber Snuff-Box
_The old gentleman, tapping his amber snuff-box
(A heart-shaped snuff-box with a golden clasp)
Stared at the dying fire. 'I'd like them all
To understand, when I am gone,' he muttered.
'But how to do it delicately! I can't
Apologize. I'll hint at it ... in verse;
And, to be sure that Rosalind reads it through,
I'll make it an appendix to my will!'
--Still cynical, you see. He couldn't help it.
He had seen much, felt much. He snapped the snuff box,
Shook his white periwig, trimmed a long quill pen,
And then began to write, most carefully,
These couplets, in the old heroic style:--_
O, had I known in boyhood, only known
The few sad truths that time has made my own,
I had not lost the best that youth can give,
Nay, life itself, in learning how to live.
This laboring heart would not be tired so soon,
This jaded blood would jog to a livelier tune:
And some few friends, could I begin again,
Should know more happiness, and much less pain.
I should not wound in ignorance, nor turn
In foolish pride from those for whom I yearn.
I should have kept nigh half the friends I've lost,
And held for dearest those I wronged the most.
Yet, when I see more cunning men evade
With colder tact, the blunders that I made;
Sometimes I wonder if the better part
Is not still mine, who lacked their subtle art.
For I have conned my book in harsher schools,
And learned from struggling what they worked by rules;
Learned--with some pain--more quickly to forgive
My fellow-blunderers, while they learn to live;
Learned--with some tears--to keep a steadfast mind,
And think more kindly of my own poor kind.
_He read the verses through, shaking his wig.
'Perhaps ... perhaps'--he whispered to himself,
'I'd better leave it to the will of God.
They might upset my own. I do not think
They'd understand. Jocelyn might, perhaps;
And Dick, if only they were left alone.
But Rosalind never; nor that nephew of mine,
The witty politician. No. No. No.
They'd say my mind was wandering, I'm afraid.'
So, with a frozen face, reluctantly,
He tossed his verses into the dying fire,
And watched the sparks fly upward.
There, at dawn,
They found him, cold and stiff by the cold hearth,
His amber snuff-box in his ivory hand.
'You see,' they said, 'he never needed friends.
He had that curious antique frozen way.
He had no heart--only an amber snuff-box.
He died quite happily, taking a pinch of snuff.'
His nephew, that engaging politician,
Inherited the snuff-box, and remarked
His epitaph should be 'Snuffed Out.' The clubs
Laughed, and the statesman's reputation grew._
poem by Alfred Noyes
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Licia Sonnets 44
Cruel fair love, I justly do complain
Of too much rigor and thy heart unkind,
That for mine eyes thou hast my body slain,
And would not grant that I should favour find.
I looked, fair love, and you my love looked fair,
I sighed for love and you for sport did smile.
Your smiles were such as did perfume the air,
And this perfuméd did my heart beguile.
Thus I confess the fault was in mine eyes,
Begun with sighs and ended with a flame.
I for your love did all the world despise,
And in these poems honored have your name.
Then let your love so with my fault dispense,
That all my parts feel not mine eyes' offense.
poem by Giles Fletcher The Elder
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In other words the pictures are in a kind of relationship with each other which is touching only at points rather than pictures being illustrations of poems or poems extrapolations of the pictures.
quote by Peter Porter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spells and Incantations
A vague pearl, a wan pearl
You showed me once; I peered through far-gone winters
Until my mind was fog-bound in that gem.
Blue diamonds, cold diamonds
You shook before me, so that out of them
Glittered and glowed vast diamond dawns of spring.
Tiger-eyed rubies, wrathful rubies
You rolled. I watched their hot hearts fling
Flames from each glaring summer of my life.
Quiet amber, mellow amber
You lifted; and behold the whole air rife
With evening, and the auburn autumn cloud.
But pale skin, your pearl skin
Show this to me, and I shall have surprise
Of every snow-lit dawn before it break.
But clear eyes, your fresh eyes
Open; that I may laugh, and lightly take
All air of early April in one hour.
But brown curls, O shadow me with curls,
Full of September mist, half-gleam, half-glower,
And I shall roam warm nights in lands far south.
poem by Wilfred Owen
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Little Sister
This is my little sister very small and rude, every single meal, she never eats her food.
This is my sister and I don't know why she can't be mine all she ever does is cry.
This is my sister she just isn't mine, well, i used to cry I guess she is, oh so fine.
poem by Amber Hale
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The Poems Of The Wild Words And Unexpected Meanings
THE POEMS OF THE WILD WORDS AND UNEXPECTED MEANINGS
The poems of the wild words and the unexpected meanings
Escape me -
The surprises of each new line’s metaphors
Are far from my power-
A plodding literal single- mindedness
Informed by small irony
Is all I have.
Poems distant from mine and greater
Inhabit the dreaming worlds,
And I inferior
With lesser words
Persist in making my Mediocrity up.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Amber
A Prehistoric Dragon Fly
Encased in amber, on display
Caught my eye as I passed it by
in the museum yesterday.
Encased in amber, as if time
itself was stopped and held at bay.
You will never know decay
Or another summer's day.
You in amber, me in time
Both are trapped and on display.
You in resin are enshrined,
while I am seen encased in rhyme.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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To Isa in Heaven
Early, bright, transient, chaste as morning dew,
She sparkled, was exhaled, and went to heaven! — Young.
Where is she now?
Oh! Isa! tell me where thou art?
If death has laid his hand upon thy brow,
Has he not touched my heart?
Has he not laid it in the grave with thine,
And buried all my joys?—Speak! thou art mine!
If thou were dead,
I would not ask thee to reply;
But thou art living—thy dear soul has fled
To heaven, where it can never die!
Then why not come to me? Return—return
And comfort me, for I have much to mourn!
I sigh all day!
I mourn for thee the livelong night!
And when the next night comes, thou art away,
And so is absent my delight!
Oh! as the lone dove for his absent mate,
So is my soul for thee disconsolate!
I long for death—
For any thing—to be with thee!
I did inhale, alas! thy dying breath,
That it might have some power on me
To make me what thou art!—but, thou art dead!
And I am here!—it strengthened me instead!
Joy there is none—
It went into the grave with thee!
And grief, because my spirit is alone,
Is all that comes to comfort me!
The very air I breathe is turned to sighs,
And all mine soul is melting from mine eyes!
I hear, at even,
The liquid carol of birds;
Their music makes me think of thee in heaven,
It is so much like thy sweet words.
The brooklet whispers, as it runs along,
Our first love-story with its liquid tongue.
Wake, Isa! wake!
And come back in this world again!
Oh! come down to me, for my soul's dear sake,
And cure me of this trying pain!
I would give all that earth to man can be,
If thou wert only in this world with me!
Day after day
I seek thee, but thou art not near!
I sit down on thy grave in the cold clay,
And listen for thy soul!—oh! dear!
And when some withered leaf falls from the tree,
I start as if thy soul had spoke to me!
And so it is,
And so it ever more must ever be
To him, who has been robbed of all the bliss
He ever knew, by loving thee!
For misery, in thine absence, is my wife!
What joy had been, hadst thou remained in life!
It is now even;
The birds have sung themselves to sleep;
And all the stars seem coming out of heaven,
As if to look upon me weep!—
Oh! let me not look up to thee in vain,
But come back to me in this world again!
poem by Thomas Holley Chivers (1842)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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To behold the dream
Living in darkness
Seeing only pain
Need driving your every sense
Everything making me insane
But there was always one thing
Shining like eternal grace
Saving my damned soul
for but a moment
I can see peace and joy
In a split second
I am free
But the moment passes
And i return
Back to the dreary world
Of which i live
Your happiness gone
My joy gone with it
Someday that Joy will be mine one day
To hold and enjoy
To be mine forever
A wonderful dream to behold
poem by Janelle Morehart
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Sonnet LXXXI: Rest with your dream inside my dream
Already, you are mine. Rest with your dream inside my dream.
Love, grief, labour, must sleep now.
Night revolves on invisible wheels
and joined to me you are pure as sleeping amber.
No one else will sleep with my dream, love.
You will go we will go joined by the waters of time.
No other one will travel the shadows with me,
only you, eternal nature, eternal sun, eternal moon.
Already your hands have opened their delicate fists
and let fall, without direction, their gentle signs,
you eyes enclosing themselves like two grey wings,
while I follow the waters you bring that take me onwards:
night, Earth, winds weave their fate, and already,
not only am I not without you, I alone am your dream.
poem by Pablo Neruda
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Amber
Here.
Try the amber.
Since you have decided,
To remove the color of pink...
From your eyes.
Although you say they were not rose.
The difference between them were too close!
I propose these amber glasses.
At least your taste for molasses,
Should not be that affected.
Well...
On second thought.
Have you considered the smoked lens.
You could wear them and still pretend.
And no one will detect your tears.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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