Like An Event
A lizard loads suffering on the nation of the sea,
It is to perform on the house by its rules, not what we saw;
Its lack of power reduces the weakness in our hearts,
Green and slimy, full of creams and disorders.
Serial killers watch a painful memory of the wall
When mice of men stagger and cry from whispers.
There is inaccuracy, and what lives and sings in teaching
Is like a solution and problem, one to be concerned with.
The lizards of the walls happen to be like colours,
They blink and surround, fully forming like events.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
I Love Tranquillity
I love tranquillity as it began staring at me,
Soon light from the mice seems to scream.
This moonlight escapes me and my hundred souls,
This tranquillity is strong for the rats have died.
My folly and feeding creates disorder,
Mice and mediums of the religious orders
Happen today and happen with events unknown,
These events are unknown, far too well understood.
Let peace strike the hearts of men and their hearts
Are strong for the stone they consist of with a strength.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
We Have Mice
We have mice in the bedroom,
the living room, kitchen and the loo.
I have even found one in the bathroom sink.
They come in all sorts of colours
red, green, purple, blue and pink.
They all belong to our cat family,
Arthur, Barney, Charlie and Daisy.
They leave them all over the house,
even hide them in our shoes and under the mats.
Sometimes they take them to bed
when they are lying on ours.
We have mice, mice and more mice,
ain’t life grand when your kitty winks have fun
and you suffer at their paws.
However, we would not be without them,
as all cat lovers know.
11 January 2011
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Killer's Mind...
Killers, killers
Killers think that what they’re doing is right
Always wanting to start a fight
Thinking that that’s a way to show they’re strong
Encouraging people to follow along
Showing that the others deserve to die
And oh... who cares if they weep and cry
That’s a symbol of their weakness, they’d say
Having full pleasure as they walk away
Leaving all those families with no hope to survive
And leaving no expectations for a child to stay alive
They’d walk amongst the others and laugh with full joy
Not caring if they’ve killed a man or even a little boy
They’d destroy every house around
Demolishing it entirely to the ground
They’d think that they had finally reached the top
While the others don’t know when they’ll finally stop.
poem by Marria Attar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
There are many more serial killers living outside the prison walls than inside.
While we are being fascinated by the tales of famous serial killers and how they were brought to justice, the real serial killer goes about his business with hardly a thought to being caught.
Never Empty
Do you ever muse what houses do
while you're at work, the kids at school,
how the traffic roars as it rolls on by
and the telephone rings with no reply.
The refrigerator sings its refrigerator tune
and the gas man calls in the afternoon.
How rain pours through that hole in the roof
and the ants infest all the children's shoes.
Have you ever thought on that dear folk,
when you're out all day and the front door's locked.
When the spiders dance and crickets chirp
with their clod hopper feet on the skirting boards,
making merriment while you're away,
assuming the house is empty all day.
Have you ever looked under old floor boards
where the mice all run when the cat's at play
and the spiders return at the break of day.
Only the house knows what goes on,
only its walls see the spiders run
and the crickets dance and the mice at play,
only the house when you're all away
except for the clock on the kitchen wall
with its heart ever beating the time of day.
poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Song of an Angel
Be still, and listen to the wind,
As it whispers through the leaves,
For the gentle song of angels,
Is blowing in the breeze.
A song that sings of little hands,
That did so many jobs,
Hands that now are gently clasped,
Within the grasp of God.
A song that sings of a little heart,
That always poured out love,
A heart that now is full of joy,
As God holds him up above.
A song that sings of little smiles,
That brightened many days,
Smiles that now warm the hearts,
Of angels on their way.
A song that sings of a little boy,
That always was a friend,
A little boy who's shown us all,
That God's love never ends.
Be still, and listen to the wind,
As it whispers through these leaves,
For the gentle song of an angel,
Is blowing in its breeze.
-In loving memory of Charles McMichael
poem by Jean Penner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
There are two kinds of serial killers as far as the victim is concerned: the kind that you don't see before they pounce on you and the kind you see and don't expect to pounce on you.
Maria's Lullaby
An extract from a poem written for my grandchildren to Brahms Lullaby
Sleep; little mice sleep
Mother will watch over you
Shut your eyes and don't peek
Tomorrow the skies will be blue
Sleep; little mice sleep.
Sleep; little mice sleep
No harm will come whilst I am here
The sun has gone down by the peak
When the day dawns it will appear
Sleep; little mice sleep.
Sleep; little mice sleep
Your father is watching the house
That no owl or cat dares to seek
Harm to creatures or mouse
Sleep; little mice sleep.
Sleep; little mice sleep
Tomorrow you run and play
Now is not time to speak
When you awake a new day
Sleep; little mice sleep.
Sleep; little mice sleep
Rest now for your own sake
Shut your eyes now be asleep
I will be here when you awake
Sleep; little mice sleep.
poem by Thomas Golding
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Blue-Tinted Lizard
There's a blue-tinted lizard on the redbrick wall,
Where the green ivy grows and the brown leaves fall,
'O it's such a pleasant day, ' say my playful little parents,
'Why don't you go outside where the brown leaves fall.'
But I'm so tired all the time in my redbrick house,
And all I see when I look out is where that blue-tinted lizard used
to slither on the wall,
Where the green ivy grows and the brown leaves fall.
poem by Joshua Dinkin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Weeds
Denounce not, the pot
grass grows abundantly
for a reason
does alcohol heal?
do anti this and anti that
move your souls?
healing is a gift
take it not from painful hearts
weeds perform powers unlike
pain killers
hypocrites kill
o does the pill
ire up Johnny
float on high
You'll get by
see you soon
up in the
sky
poem by Matt Mondschein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
We Won't Be Tolerating These Bad Apples
Diciding for a group of individuals the guilt lies on them to bare.
Who gives you the right?
When they had nothing to do with it but instead it was their association with past tendencies.
It is no better, then saying this was done to me so now I'll do it their children.
Do we blame a serial killers child for his murders.
No do we watch them most carefully, most certainly.
They say the apple doesn't fall from the tree.
But I say it doesn't matter because it will be a new tree.
Maybe it bares the same bad fruit, maybe not but we will not know if it is not given the chance to grow.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
His Writings On The Wall
when he was writing about
walls
he wrote the words on the walls
and they were arranged
like walls
from wall to wall his description
about the wall was
consistently like a wall
walling in all the walls
around the wall
where he was writing
consistently and
uniformly the word
wall, wall, wall, wall
and then nothing but a train of walls like this
wallwallwallwallwallwallwallwallwallw allwallwallwallwallwallwallwallwallwallwall
of course, he did notn add any smoke from steam engine
neither did he add any children and women and even men riding on the
train of walls
there was no driver even
or wheels
what he stressed was just a wall, a wall train, a wall nothing but a wall
walling him in
but what he really wanted at the end was something that should wall him out
something however that until now he is still trying to figure out
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Bugs On Our Skin
The bugs are the bugles of nature for some,
Hurting is their tip, forming a lack of power;
The bugs have diverse rules, never to understand
As their bite is on this date, and the craft is clear.
The minding of these insects is immense,
Slowly we bite them with our strategy and tactics,
It takes the army some, the reality beckons
But we are in shivers for the pain and suffering.
Huge bugs will define us, what are our habits?
Their forewings and hindwings can handle their flight
To ruin our skin, with their feeding habits.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Serial killers kill for the power and control they experience during the murders and for the added ego boost they get in the aftermath from community fears, media coverage, and the police investigations.
Sonnet-No Nation Is Free
When no one knows the where and when and how
Of Terrorist's strike anywhere on earth,
Their 'modus operandi' you can't know,
Neither the problem's nature or its girth!
When war is on an enemy unknown,
Who operates in ways you can't predict;
Who makes a Super-nation too a clown!
And nations all don't fully interdict.
When nation lives in fear of more attacks,
From militants and terrorists some way;
And lasting solutions also, it lacks,
How can you celebrate 'REPUBLIC-DAY'?
Alas! No nation is really free,
Till terrorists are wiped out totally!
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Have You Experienced Inside A Wall Within A Wall Within A Wall?
i laugh since i broke a wall and i smile because finally i am free
and yet when i try to smile anew i find myself inside another wall again.
i break another wall again and again and again
but the walls keep walling me like i am its lover.
and finally i give up, i feel the walls too loving and caring for me.
and then i care for the walls and learn to love each corner
its thickness its soundless world
and then i tell the house where the walls are growing healthy,
i am glad about walls. They keep me secure. And then finally i said it for once.
the walls love me. and i love the walls since then.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet: Better Seek God’s Help
Sometimes, I can do things all on my own;
But this isn’t possible always to me;
At times, I can get them done by someone;
May be, then things can happen speedily!
But things go wrong at times when I do them;
And problems occur when others perform;
Delays too happen in solving problem;
All human minds are not always in form.
But yet, the best is placing trust in God;
Nothing goes wrong when God gives solution;
The ways of God at times seem rather odd;
And confidence, God gives by intuition.
God works more wonders than man imagines;
But God helps those with soul afree from sins!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 12-4-2006
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
(Emotion Poem) A Release
A release of ones self being.
To explain what one is feeling
In words so simple comes so much meaning
Trying to not be overachieving
But what can be helped when with ones eyes they are seeing
An antidote to a problem
No solution seems to be solving
A prolonged equation bring loads of aggravation
With relief is the sensation
A contemplation, of what is
A premonition, of what was
I hear them still say just because
Not a need of one to listen but to forgive
These are the voices of men
Disguised by colors of the sin
For one needs to admit
So they can forget
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Religion holds the solution to all problems of human relationship, whether they are between parents and children or nation and nation. Sooner or later, man has always had to decide whether he worships his own power or the power of God.
quote by A.J. Toynbee
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!