A Chorus
When at the moon-lit cold nights
Came out we all the girls an boys,
To be amused with hide and seek,
The long low wailing howls of dogs,
And heinous shrills of the little owls,
Cast fear, I became horrid recoiled,
Threw each of us a handful of dust,
To the direction of ominous harbingers,
To impede an instant invading calamity.
Often then in the foggy morn we found,
A robbed body in the thick shrubs,
With perforated chest, broken bones,
Lacerated belly, or stabbed heart,
For a few pennies, or a ring of gold.
Some fierce animals in the human form,
Disturbed peaceful silence of the village,
As flings someone a big boulder,
From the height, down into the deep water,
And the waves raise commotion around.
The bold moved indignant, the timid horrified,
The women young and old circumscribed,
The widow with broken bangles dishevelled hair,
And moved around her, striking hands,
On the scared faces with force full,
The head clouts binding around the waists,
With loose lurking ends swaying behind,
Circled they bending with rhythmic beats,
Protested against the deed producing voices,
The clamorous cries of lamenting chorus,
Spread horror in the pastoral spheres,
Making death for the alive too frightful.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Bangles
In festival seasons,
Miles walked bangle sellers
Tread the vennel unforgettable,
On feet, worn and torn,
With white clothe bundles,
Full of bangles and their lives,
On their heads wobble,
Whose calls village girls listen,
Break their clay pots,
In which they had collected coins,
And buy bangles
In hues and designs diverse.
Some unknown artists
Shaped the designs on bangles,
Who never came to the limelight,
Instead, wages collected
And withdrew in to silence.
Village girls put on bangles;
Always mesmerised beauty little pains out kept.
Jingling arms love CDs inserted
In to the heart-players of rustic guys,
Who always combed their hairs.
Girls keep and care the bangles,
Like virginity, till the nuptials.
Bracelet turns bracelets,
Often, after the wed locks.
Uncared…
Broken…
And discarded bangles:
“All Fate”, they say…yes!
In kitchens, a few scattered;
Into wells, a few thrown;
And, also, a few burnt in flames.
Unalloyed simple joys,
Experienced worn bangles,
Like virginity, left village girls.
poem by Fabiyas M V
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Prayers
The rocking hands swayed me back,
The centuries full four and ten behind;
Placed me on the cold wet sandy bank,
At the time of dawn, half light, half night.
Behind I saw stretched sandy plains,
In front calm sea with small ridges
Moving when gentle air moved.
Far away I beheld a ship coming
Ashore from the remote distant land,
Anchored instantly after the voyage long.
I beheld then the men four riding on
The steeds, galloping along splashing waters;
Fully armoured,
Equipped with sharp shining swords;
And captured they the descending voyager,
From the shoulders who cast at me,
A resigned patient look.
Ah! I can recall the heavy rough brows,
Long nose, thick lips, complexion black,
Perforated ear with a silvery ringlet,
Long dress and loose sleeves.
Turned then he to the centre,
Bended knees, sat to offer the prayers,
Under the lurking long curved blades.
Then the same rocking hands brought me back,
To sign a bond, to make a new turn,
And rectify direction of the derailed gait,
Eyes I found watering full flowing,
Drenching cheeks and the whiskers all.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Everything Is Broken
Broken lines, broken strings, broken threads, broken springs
Broken idols, broken heads, people sleeping in broken beds
Aint no use jivin, aint no use jokin
Everything is broken
Broken bottles, broken plates, broken switches, broken gates
Broken dishes, broken parts, streets are filled with broken hearts
Broken words never meant to be spoken
Everything is broken
Seems like every time you stop and turn around
Someone else has just hit the ground
Broken cutters, broken saws, broken buckles, broken laws
Broken bodies, broken bones, broken voices on broken phones
Take a deep breath, feel like youre chokin
Everything is broken
Every time you leave and go off some place
Things fall to pieces in my face
Broken hands on broken plows, broken treaties, broken vows
Broken pipes, broken tools, people bending broken rules
Hound dog howlin, bullfrog croakin
Everything is broken
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Everything Is Broken
Broken lines, broken strings
Broken threads, broken springs,
Broken idols, broken heads,
People sleeping in broken beds.
Aint no use jiving,
Aint no use joking,
Everything is broken.
Broken bottles, broken plates,
Broken switches, broken gates,
Broken dishes, broken parts,
Streets are filled with broken hearts.
Broken words never meant to be spoken,
Everything is broken.
Seems like every time you stop and turn around
Something else just hit the ground
Broken cutters, broken saws,
Broken buckles, broken laws,
Broken bodies, broken bones,
Broken voices on broken phones
Take a deep breath, feel like youre chokin,
Everything is broken.
Every time you leave and go off someplace
Thangs fall to pieces in my face
Broken hands on broken ploughs,
Broken treaties, broken vows,
Broken pipes, broken tools,
People bending broken rules.
Hound dog howling, bull frog croaking,
Everything is broken.
song performed by by Kenny Wayne Shepherd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
On The Drum Beat
On listening to the measured sound,
Of the distant drum beat,
With sweeping sounds of the pipes.
On the other end of the village,
On wedding of couple,
I was carried out of myself.
And thrilling blood ran into veins,
With the sense of vitality.
I lost my control on me,
As if my limbs were not mine.
For the spell queer.
Worked on me and my fellows,
Of the same age,
Who being charmed ran,
Attracted by the drum beat.
As pleasing smell attracts,
The bees, flies and moths.
Each taking two rods wooden,
Hastened to the cottage of groom,
Gathering around the beater,
In the airy yard,
Who stood pivoted in the center,
Black and tall, with pink faded turban,
His rhythmic hands beat,
On vibrating ends of the drum,
Hanging with his neck,
With long leather belts.
We danced and danced in circle,
In ecstatic heightened spirit.
Our hands, feet and limbs,
Mechanically moved with the beats,
Among the chorus of wedding songs,
And clapping of the adorned ladies.
Striking of the wooden rods,
Produced sounds harmonious,
All dancing and cheering,
Were carried out of themselves,
To the fairy-lands of strange joys.
Then all of sudden,
The beating hands stopped,
And we came down to the earth,
Falling head-long, as wings of a bird,
Flying into the zones high,
Are clipped short,
So for him ceases everything,
When dashes to the ground
The broken spell of rhythmic beats,
Brought us again,
Into the world of woes and pangs.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Of A Broken Heart
If only I die
Just once in my life
If only to try
To take a guess, to be the best
A feeling I hide
That runs this world, that keeps us alive
I want you to climb with me
Until I die of a broken heart
A broken heart
Until I die of a broken heart
A broken heart
Until I die
The heart of a child
Is in your hands now
So lets see you smile
cause Im not impressed with your loneliness
And its been a while
Since you forgave all your changes made
So lets count the miles together
Until I die of a broken heart
A broken heart
Until I die of a broken heart
A broken heart
Until I die of a broken heart
A broken heart
Until I die
If only I die
Just once in my life
If only to try together
Until I die of a broken heart
A broken heart
Until I die of a broken heart
A broken heart
Until I die of a broken heart
A broken heart
Until I die
song performed by by Zwan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Dreamy Age
Remembering of the dreamy age,
Fills my eyes with tears,
The sights unpolluted and clear,
Now changed into smoky and full of noise,
Where I played with cheerful friends,
Whom ruthless tides have scattered,
As the wind disperses the dried leaves,
A slight before the dead winter,
Some went abroad, some to the Town of Silence
What a delight it was!
At noon under the blue skies,
Running after the butterflies,
Delicate and nicely-colourful,
Spoiling the mustard farms,
Blossomed yellow, sharply fragrant.
The indignant landlady cursed,
Chasing with a stick wet and long,
But we always were out of her access.
In the days of torrential rains,
Under the noses of flowing spouts,
We stood long, making a noise,
The lightening thundered scaring,
Made me afraid, as if we,
The shouting children interrupt.
The grand office of God.
Then for diving and swimming,
Ran to the pond nearby the village,
Beside the huge banyan tree,
What a delicious bat it was!
In the muddy opaque water.
Each delight of child-hood,
Is soul-sucking, worth-recalling,
When before the wintry nights,
Played we all girls and boys,
Out on the ploughed farms,
Hiding in ricks and heaps of fodder.
Under the waning moon,
Unaware to the thoughts obscene.
Often in the downy steeps,
In the deep recesses of thick forest,
Drank water from the trickling fountains,
Carefree, oblivious to woes and worries,
Spent days plucking the sweet berries,
From the thorny branches bending down,
Laden with ripe red fruit.
Sometimes on the rocky ground,
By the luck benevolent we found,
In the fragrant bushes honey wild,
While getting the comb down,
The incensed bees stung the cheeks,
Then returned home swollen faced,
And got chidings kind of the parents.
The intoxicant spring approached,
With thrilling spirit, refreshing hopes,
The soft, gentle breeze blew.
Made the village drowsy fragrant.
In the swaying crops, blooming fields,
Blossomed wild poppies flowering red,
And when we ran bare-footed,
After the fluffy lambs, on the dewy grass,
The birds sang sweet melodies,
Hovered in circles over the head,
Making us feel their presence.
In silence at the warm nights,
A mysterious sound of the distant lute,
Enchanted throwing me into ecstasies.
If the childhood be a commodity,
And I had the heap of gold,
And wealth countless and untold,
I would buy without bargain,
The dreamy age second time.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
She's Alive
A boy to raise at her young age
No help from him but she's alive
To be made strong but all alone
Must be a pain but she's alive
Dre:
The year was 1975
That night crickets cried
They knew what was going down
Three girls travel a long country road
And one said she thinks it's time
This baby wants to come right now
A boy to raise at her young age
No help from him but she's alive
To be made strong but all alone
Must be a pain but she's alive
Ms. B:
I was scufflin' going to school
I was scufflin' and working at night
And you know what?
I truly believe and that's why
I tell a lot of parents,
single parents
Don't tell me what God can't do!
I made sure you had...
I never felt like you should be
deprived of anything...
If a man didn't want to take care
of his child you move on,
and that's what I did, I moved on
A boy to raise at her young age
No help from him but she's alive
To be made strong but all alone
Must be a pain but she's alive
A boy to raise at...at her young age
No help from him but she's alive
Ms. B:
He always wanted to be a father but
he never took care of you...
He had no money, he had nothing...
How could you care about somebody
and you never did the welfare of them?
A boy to raise at her young age
No help from him but she's alive
To be made strong but all alone
Must be a drag but she's alive
A boy to raise at her young age
No help from him but she's alive
To be made strong but all alone
Must -
And I knew I had to go down that
road by myself
She's alive
song performed by by Outkast
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Real Game
Uninvited frequent gluttonous guest,
Visited and picked up one by one,
The elder and younger of the family,
Making each time the house desolate.
When I was hardly three years old,
And nothing about painful death was told,
Played carefree with half dressed friends,
And ran around the big tree of acacia,
Staining with dust, mud and water dirty,
Made filthy my legs and arms, feet and face,
My grandmother would then give me a bath,
And I did weep, cryingly protested against,
The act of washing, making me neat.
She then mopped my body, wiped my eyes,
Doting upon me, she caressed my cheeks,
Embracing me she would often warm,
Titillate with the fingers frail and old,
Made me laugh to forget the cold,
She hid behind the door, under the cots,
Played hide and seek to make me please.
Ah! One morning she lay stiff, could not rise,
Then was dressed with the suit of cotton white,
As she would go on the journey long,
Gathered men, women, young and old,
Some wailed, some sniffed, some silent sat.
But played I with the friends of my age,
And ate yellow rice with the belly fill.
In the evening they shouldered the cot,
The procession advanced leaving me depressed,
Turned the corner, with the sacred chorus.
I stood stunned in the middle of the yard,
Staring to the street, questioning the walls,
“Why had they not taken me along? ”
At night I cried aloud when I found,
An empty bed laid in the deserted corner,
I sought under the cots, behind the doors,
Where she did hide, but could not find.
A pair of shoes, the clothes on cord,
Consoled me well, told me the truth,
Ah! The real game at last she had played.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Girls Want To Be With Girls
The girls don't want to play like that,
They just want to talk to the boys.
The just want to do what is in their hearts,
And the girls want to be with the girls.
(CHORUS)
And the boys say, "What do you mean?"
And the boys say, "What do you mean?"
Well there is just no love,
When there's boys and girls.
And the girls want to be with the girls,
And the girls want to be with the girls.
Girls want things that make common sense,
The best for all concerned.
They don't want to have to go out of their way,
And the girls want to be with the girls.
(CHORUS)
And the boys say, "What do you mean?"
And the boys say, "What do you mean?"
Well there is just no love,
When there's boys and girls.
And the girls want to be with the girls,
And the girls want to be with the girls.
Girls are getting into abstract analysis,
They want to make intuitive leap.
They are making plans that have far reaching effects.
And the girls want to be with the girls.
(CHORUS)
And the boys say, "What do you mean?"
And the boys say, "What do you mean?"
Well there is just no love,
When there's boys and girls.
And the girls want to be with the girls.
And the girls want to be with the girls.
song performed by by Talking Heads
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Girls Want To Be With The Girls
The girls dont want to play like that,
They just want to talk to the boys.
The just want to do what is in their hearts,
And the girls want to be with the girls.
(chorus)
And the boys say, what do you mean?
And the boys say, what do you mean?
Well there is just no love,
When theres boys and girls.
And the girls want to be with the girls,
And the girls want to be with the girls.
Girls want things that make common sense,
The best for all concerned.
They dont want to have to go out of their way,
And the girls want to be with the girls.
(chorus)
And the boys say, what do you mean?
And the boys say, what do you mean?
Well there is just no love,
When theres boys and girls.
And the girls want to be with the girls,
And the girls want to be with the girls.
Girls are getting into abstract analysis,
They want to make intuitive leap.
They are making plans that have far reaching effects.
And the girls want to be with the girls.
(chorus)
And the boys say, what do you mean?
And the boys say, what do you mean?
Well there is just no love,
When theres boys and girls.
And the girls want to be with the girls.
And the girls want to be with the girls.
song performed by by Talking Heads
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Beneath The Ossa Of Dust
(On the event when five women buried alive)
What kind of hearts
We contain in the chests!
What kind of thoughts
We bear in the minds!
What kind of blood
Flows through our veins!
For the loins and the wolves,
The rats and cats, the dogs and hogs:
The ferocious animals
That bear the brutal hearts,
Dare not bury their fellows alive.
I weep, weep and weep!
I wail, wail and wail!
On the deed you did,
On the crime you committed;
And those who remained silent spectators,
Are the accomplices too,
The collaborators,
In execution of the most heinous,
And monstrous deed.
The daughters of Eve and Adam,
Who are akin to us
As mothers, daughters, sisters
And companions of life
Have been maltreated,
Buried alive by the so-called elites:
Cream of the crop,
Who are men in forms
But wolves in spirits,
The sky might not have witnessed
The spectacle more horrible,
More hideous since centuries.
They might have suffocated
Feeling themselves beneath
The Ossa of dust,
Blocking the respiratory tracks,
All helpless, unaided
With palpitating, breathing hearts,
And fearful minds
Wrapped in the brutal murkiness,
Yearning for a single
Fresh breath or a gust of wind.
Where are the laws?
Where are the morals?
Yes; they exist,
But for the back-broken
And not for the feudal lords:
The snakes sitting coiled
Upon the heaps of gold,
They are privileged
To do with liberty
What their wanton hearts wish,
No punishment:
Terrestrial or celestial them scars.
Ah! They buried
Five women in the dust alive,
Should we weep and wail,
Or wail and weep,
We still live in the Stone Age
Or in an era much worse than that,
We are no more in the modern age;
Imaging a while,
Place yourself in the place of those women
Buried alive with the beating hearts,
Pulsating pulses
What a horrible experience
They might have undergone.
The more I think
The more my head begins to pound
And my despised heart wishes to live,
In the hovels beneath the ground,
In the company of the beasts:
Less brute and less appalling,
They may tear me to pieces
But will not bury me alive,
With beating heart and pulsating pulse
Beneath the Ossa of dust,
Blocking the respiratory tracks.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hammer Purged By Rust (Part Two)
the railed fence broken,
buildings stink with shock,
the sky falls with shattered force.
young boys with brass boners
chase burning limbs,
lips too numb to talk.
in uniforms of pretense,
that hide all remnants of fear.
drilled to perform without conscious thoughts,
their mothers prayers denied.
to the kingdoms of the poor,
unleashing the vultures of greed.
striking dead any man who dares to stand,
burying the children on trash covered streets.
to banish thought, to blacken hope,
to sever hands that join!
walls built of bones,
young mothers fight back with stones,
the match of judgement struck.
wave upon wave, led by dogs and owls,
sacrificed in sacred mud!
and the gods of eternity
beat the drums of fate.
the ghosts of compassion,
just outside the doors of hate.
truth hangs in the balance,
the covers are removed.
only the man who dares to be man
will survive the coming flood!
and hand in hand left naked
will build a garden in the ruins.
when light reveals the heart that feels,
and the skulls rise and speak...
children drenched in ash and oil,
warm by fires that stroke the night.
when nothing sleeps with nothing,
and the skies weep with stars!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Adieu;
The summer nights that emptied all sorrows.
The winter nights filled me with pain.
The slow breeze of autumn that humbly blew my hairs.
Of all the days that i did spend.
Of all the nights that i have seen.
And all those faces.
Young and old.
I remember them still.
I remember them now.
Oh how each day enroled a lesson.
One that was worth learning.
And how each moment that left my clock.
Left its fragrance with it.
The rains; the sun; the moon; the breeze.
That left there certain cries of ease.
Worth recalling; when i was sad.
Or broken by someones words.
And as each day slipped through my fingers.
Many memories; welcomed my heart.
And now as my heart beats still.
And now as death comes near.
Farewell oh dear, cruel world.
Farewell its traps and games.
Farewell to them who lived with me.
Farewell to love and pain.
I say adieu to every soul that lives a silent life.
May you find peace that i have found.
With death upon my door.
It is love that made me fly in the seventh sky.
But it was hope that never left me; for eternity.
poem by Furqan Asad
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Moon's Kiss
It was a cold december night
the full moon was bright
deep under i was lying down
in the bottom i was starring at a clear night sky
in the bottom of the ocean
suddenly a cold chill slipped through by bones
then i saw a thin dark line pushed by the stream
it interferred with moon face reflect on water's surface
fear envade my heart like a scream
i came out from the water
to take out the line from it's face so perfect
then the moon smiled to me
then i woke up from dream
with a single long hair within my lips
i kissed the moon
poem by Kamel Kamel
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Little Match Girl
It was biting cold, and the falling snow,
Which filled a poor little match girl's heart with woe,
Who was bareheaded and barefooted, as she went along the street,
Crying, "Who'll buy my matches? for I want pennies to buy some meat!"
When she left home she had slippers on;
But, alas! poor child, now they were gone.
For she lost both of them while hurrying across the street,
Out of the way of two carriages which were near by her feet.
So the little girl went on, while the snow fell thick and fast;
And the child's heart felt cold and downcast,
For nobody had bought any matchea that day,
Which filled her little mind with grief and dismay.
Alas! she was hungry and shivering with cold;
So in a corner between two houses she made bold
To take shelter from the violent storm.
Poor little waif! wishing to herself she'd never been born.
And she grew colder and colder, and feared to go home
For fear of her father beating her; and she felt woe-begone
Because she could carry home no pennies to buy bread,
And to go home without pennies she was in dread.
The large flakes of snow covered her ringlets of fair hair;
While the passers-by for her had no care,
As they hurried along to their homes at a quick pace,
While the cold wind blew in the match girl's face.
As night wore on her hands were numb with cold,
And no longer her strength could her uphold,
When an idea into her little head came:
She'd strike a match and warm her hands at the flame.
And she lighted the match, and it burned brightly,
And it helped to fill her heart with glee;
And she thought she was sitting at a stove very grand;
But, alas! she was found dead, with a match in her hand!
Her body was found half-covered with snow,
And as the people gazed thereon their hearts were full of woe;
And many present let fall a burning tear
Because she was found dead on the last night of the year,
In that mighty city of London, wherein is plenty of gold -
But, alas! their charity towards street waifs is rather cold.
But I hope the match girl's in Heaven, beside her Saviour dear,
A bright reward for all the hardships she suffered here.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dead Can Never
Dead can never come alive
They got to be buried underneath to relive
They stay with peaceful time and in silence
So not to be disturbed by and stay with peace
Past is past and to be buried
Never to be remembered and opened
It has its bruise and sad side
Why we should bother about it and hide?
If you carry it further and bear at heart
It will be slow poison from the start
It may make you mentally sick and spread slowly
To whole body and kill you gradually
Past is to be forgotten
Wealth is to be donated if ill gotten
Life is for change and must move on
As river water moves for the purity of its own
Body may decay
Vision may go away
Hands may refuse to move
Only soul waits to be removed
One day you may be silent past
Life may move suddenly very fast
Death may knock and take you over
You need not find then any cover
You are gone forever
From the human memory with stop over
Few family members may remember on some occasion
Then slowly you will be put in 'question'
You were and now you are no more
Life size picture may be pushed in store
You will be taken out on anniversary
As it may then be felt necessary
Live in present as it is living thing
Past has no place for lively thing
If present is bestowed as blessings
Never afford to loose with other happenings
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
If Teardrops Were Pennies
Wagon and dolly parton
An acre of diamonds Id offer to you
A solid gold mansion, an airplane or two
This whole world would be yours to have and to hold
If teardrops were pennies and heartaches were gold
Chorus
If teardrops were pennies and heartaches were gold
Id have all the riches my pockets would hold
Id be oh so wealthy with treasures untold
If teardrops were pennies and heartaches were gold.
The tears that have fallen wont buy you a thing
The heartaches you caused me wont pay for a ring
The love that I wanted would not have grown cold
If teardrops were pennies and heartaches were gold.
Repeat chorus
But teardrops arent pennies
And heartaches arent gold
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Wailing Wall
The holy city breathed
Like a dying man
It moved with hopeful tears
With the tears of the blind
And on and on as the night drew in
Through broken streets
That sucked me in
My feet were bare and cut with stones
With walking to the promised land
I pushed through crowds
Through seas of prayer
Through twisting hands and choking air
A vulture at the wailing wall
I circled
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Love Sonnet 53 I oft wonder if some cave girls have known,
I oft wonder if some cave girls have known,
How to enlist the moon in an affair,
If too, their thoughts, to fantasy have flown,
That is, before they would be dragged by hair;
And how their men must have squandered their nights,
To seek love mates, or food along the way,
Or then frolic in these new-found delights,
Or go shouting like animals that bray;
But more exciting is, once they bother,
To stop being mimics of not their kind,
Say, animals that greet one another,
To sniff up front, rather than from behind;
.....Sorry for these not so romantic swirls,
.....Whilst stuck between the moon and some cave girls.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!