Watersome
He died of old age and not disfigurement,
Yet I loathe the bold character inwardly clever
Of a man who resides in the back of my head.
He kept stinging and fed me with jargon
That will need a fuel and furnace to last.
It is all in the water.......
poem by Naveed Akram
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Related quotes
I Am Ready to Jump
My body trembles;
I am ready to jump,
my entire body moves slowly as I take a few steps back,
I run- my arms feel like lead.
As I reach the edge,
I realize this wasn't so smart.
Now as I fall down, down, down,
through the air, I start to cry.
Salty tears slide up into my hair,
the vast body of water looms ever closer;
should I close my eyes?
Surely when I hit the water
I will die instantly.
Or will I find nothing but frothing water
and agonizing pain?
In an instant, I plunge into the icy water,
I'm not dead, I don't feel any pain.
But something keeps pulling me down,
and so I sink into the icy water.
'I'm not ready to die! ' screams a voice in
the back of my head.
And so I try to swim upward,
moving my arms that feel like lead.
No longer am I in a sea of salt and water,
but of porridge;
thick like mud.
So I stoke harder, faster;
going nowhere.
Exausted with fatigue I look for a shore line,
there is nothing but water.
As far as my eyes can see,
there is nothing but water.
And so I give up,
no more trying.
I fall back into the water;
eyes still open, stinging.
I fade into the depths of the water,
praying silently to my God;
singing my last song,
as I start to drift and nod.
poem by Sam Hughff
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Loath and Fear
If I would rely on phrenology,
Or science, or mythology,
I'd burn down this damned city
And disembark in a conclusion
Of the ugly veracity:
I loathe everything!
I fear everything!
I loathe that I am writing about loathing
And I fear that I might lose every one
Though I barely have anyone,
So I loathe even more on this fear.
I loathe that I write about myself all the time, and
I fear that I might not be writing at all
I loathe that I would narrate a story
In the surreal slopes of enigma, and
I fear, afterwards, that no one will pry
To understand or even console.
I loathe that my mouth cannot mouth
What my hands opted to write, and
I fear that my hands aren't equipped
To write what I cannot mouth.
I loathe even more that I build walls
For people to beat down and divulge
The forlorn boy inside, and yet
I fear to be found.
And I loathe to the point of breaking
That no one ever cared to pry
And that makes me shudder in fear, and
I fear this kind of loathing
And loathe this kind of fear.
I loathe that I cannot gain readers, and
I fear that I may never have
I loathe that readers appreciates the writing
But not the congealed brook
Between the lines of it, and
I fear that they might not even
Appreciate the spilled blood
In every line of it.
I loathe, I fear,
That apart from writing
I am never good at anything
Except maybe from fearing and loathing.
I loathe that I blame the past
For making me loathe a lot, and
For making me fear a lot
For making me loathe sports, and
For making me fear trying
And all the brusquely recreations
And the shame of failing.
I loathe, I fear,
That I was turned
To be a loathing misanthrope
From a fearing diffident
Or perhaps not,
Perhaps, I am both.
I loathe, I fear,
The mad man that I am
Smoking the emaciation out
For I loathe and fear the society
And their chauvinistic beliefs.
I fear that I am ninety pounds flat,
I loathe that I am not doing anything,
And I loathe and fear my loathing and fearing
Because I fear that all I have left
Is my loathing to strengthen myself.
I loathe my poor drinking limit
And I loathe the carousals
As much as I fear encompassing the line
And fearing the toll of carousals
For I never get inebriated
In loathe and fear.
I loathe the carousing table
For they are full of shallow people
Except for one person, perhaps
And I loathe and I fear,
That I may not be him.
I loathe that I am poor
Because I am jobless
And so are my parents.
I loathe, I fear,
That when I finish college
And finally get a job
That I cannot think for myself
Because my shoulders are donned
With so much unsolicited weights;
I loathe that I loathe it
Because it makes me a loathing glutton
Self-centered and loathsome, and
I fear all this loathing
For the very same reasons.
I loathe that I do not have friends
And that I cannot have friends
And that I loathe my friends, and
I fear that I can loathe my friends
Or not having thereof
For I fear to realize
That I do not even know what I want
Or that no one knows what I want.
I loathe that I do not have the facilities
And sometimes the interest
And there is nothing much fearful
Than loathing your fears
And fearing your loathing
From your fears.
I fear the approaching season
For I am bound to loathe even more
That the people are carousing
For not a single reason
Whilst I loathe, whilst I fear
Not having anything.
And despite me inscribing these
I loathe that I am doing these, and
I fear that I am not doing these right.
I loathe and fear that I am hopeful
Again and again after another failure
And I loathe, and I fear,
That even with a fractured cranium
I would still go for another try
And I loathe even more
And I fear even more
That I loathe, and that I fear,
But never give up
On loath and fear.
poem by Norman Santos
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The society is problematic.
I am for freedom of expression
But I loathe it when it comes
From the people who are under me.
I am for strict obedience,
That I expect from those under me
Though I loathe practicing it.
I expect loyalty that I loathe showing.
That is why the society is problematic.
28.12.2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Feline
He was on water, in misfortune,
Inwardly, his situation seemed hot and sticky;
But, closer to death, a line was drawn to succeed,
Making somersaults in the air,
Mastering the old gold from forgotten gold,
Lakes of purity were upon him.
He had bitten the mouse of alacrity,
As a cat he was human enough.
The light grew closer to the body
As a clever feline animal was apt to
Be an art of stealth.
Breathing very slowly was astounding,
In this traffic we blessed him.
poem by Naveed Akram
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A Comma
A coma accompanied my body for this century,
Backstage the heart clicked like a clock.
This century my girls will age unequally
For they have died, and they have died.
Destruction counted least in the expedition of my soulfulness,
A columnist wrote his burden of me and my history.
This causes to age the readers of the newsperson
Writing the stories of conjecture.
A coma has broken off from me, from me,
So that the century’s kip resides no longer in my head.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Y - hole- 8
Back at another hole.
Just not feeling that bold.
MAYBE getting old.
JUST THAT WATER HOLE.
Can't have no water.
FOUL-FOUL-FOUL-MAN-no water.
GO! ! ! Have a soda dude....or who ever.
Just want water man.
WE ONLY GOT - ACID RAIN - water.
DON'T need that trip.
But that is it.
100.00 dollars for a cool cup.
MAN-I said-MAN-WE GOT NO WATER.
YOU JUST OUT OF LUCK.
500 million cars are right.
EVERY DAY I NEED WATER.
DIE MAN-that's it # 8
1/18/2007 Joe Poewhit
JESUS SAVES
poem by Joe Poewhit
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Sing Your Life
Sing your life
Any fool can think of words that rhyme
Many others do
Why dont you ?
Do you want to ?
Oh...
Sing your life
Walk right up to the microphone
And name
All the things you love
All the things that you loathe
Oh, sing your life
The things that you love
And the things you loathe
Oh, sing your life
Oh, sing your life
La, la-la, la-la, sing your life
La, la-la, la-la, sing your life
Others sang your life
But now is a chance to shine
And have the pleasure of
Saying what you mean
Have the pleasure of
Meaning what you sing
Oh, make no mistake my friend
All of this will end
So sing it now (sing your life)
All the things you love (sing your life)
All the things you loathe
Oh, sing your life
The things that you love
And the things you loathe (sing your life)
Oh, sing oh...
Oh, sing oh...
La, la-la, la-la, sing your life
La, la-la, la-la, sing your life
Dont leave it all unsaid
Somewhere in the wasteland of your head, oh
Head, oh, head, oh, head, oh
And make no mistake, my friend
Your pointless life will end
But before you go
Can you look at the truth ?
You have a lovely singing voice
A lovely singing voice
And all of those
Who sing on-key
They stole the notion
From you and me
So, sing your life (sing your life)
Sing your life (sing your life)
Oh, sing your oh...
Oh, sing your
Sing your life
Sing your life
Sing your life
Oh, sing your oh...
(sing your life)
(sing your life)
Sing your life
(sing your life)
song performed by by Morrissey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sinning Arrows
Over their shoulders they pulled the load,
Fresh people have fresh news of the time;
They resist the temptations, their illness
Is spear-like for the moments of distress.
I have a head and heart produced by the lords,
With iron scales my armour resides in heaven now.
Across the narrow chamber a stinging arrow
Makes a travelling career, fully informing.
They saw the gaunt faces as the rays of fire
Broke the banners and the sinners of fire.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Speed
rising from oneself
to the highest
sky
alone flying and
diving
and those who
watch
thought that this
is plain nonsense
for that seagull
may finally shatter
its bird's head
to a rock
it is not as simple
as that
the seagull has
learned the trick
of smashing itself
on the water
like a rocket
with a fuel at
its back
to speed to art
to life!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ode To A Seagull
rising from oneself
to the highest
sky
alone flying and
diving
and those who
watch
thought that this
is plain nonsense
for that seagull
may finally shatter
its bird's head
to a rock
it is not as simple
as that
the seagull has
learned the trick
of smashing itself
on the water
like a rocket
with a fuel at
its back
to speed to art
to life!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Each character represented a trait that resides in me.
quote by Chuck Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cold water
Water is cold water is wet,
Water is cold and can be a big mess...
Water is a teer dropp running down your cheek,
Water is the stuff that makes you feel weak...
Water can be good if you feel down,
Water can be bad if you don't come back around...
Water is a thing that can make you feel cold,
Water is a thing that can make you be bold...
Water is a cold, cold thing,
Everyone has water running through them...
poem by Alexandra Greif
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One Revolution
The clouds are paling and fading as destruction hovers,
Loathe them forwards, headlong like a wolf of heaven.
Take your harness to ratify the cultivation of sin,
Loathe him mysteriously, likely ideologies are in mind.
May clouds nightly fade into the right of the sight,
Bold freak occurrences happen as freak work of the deity.
Let the thunder accuse you of sin and the lightening may strike
Your cranium as it did when you skilled yourself with trade.
The strikes are on, revolutions bestride to double the rifles,
Busily doubling again like real fires, really hitting, even acceptable.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Narrow streets but join the roads
I was really frustrated about the last night's incident,
Dear brother, your helpless car stopped here to fuel the tank.
I understand you have to drive further.
But your wallet wasn't sound as same as my poor pocket.
The two dollar shinning bill which I gave to you is not enough
And the journey is far and rough.
Let the day comes the Automobiles could run with water.
But the water too expensive nowadays.
We are narrow streets chum!
But some day join the roads.
I wish you good luck Comrade
And let the free polluted air turns into fuel on your pleasant way.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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When a man bleeds inwardly, it is a dangerous thing for himself; but when he laughs inwardly, it bodes no good to other people.
quote by Charles Dickens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cow's Dung
Fuel of cow's dung,
Fuel of human excrement,
And like a sharp blade from a barber's shop! !
Over the hairs of your head and of your private part;
But, i will strecth out my hands to hold you!
Because, you need peace in this land than war.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Did It Again
Written: kylie minogue/ steve anderson/ david seaman
Clever girl
Think you are but you think too much
Shut down turn around
Dont look that way any more
Clever girl
Think you know but you dont know much
Try to make a move
Go to a different door
You know its all in your head
You better put that business to bed
By your fair hands of design you met with
The monster in your mind
You did it again
You did it again
Wont you listen to me when Im telling you its no good for you
Clever girl
Think youre right
But whats right from wrong?
Little miss genius
You make it hard on yourself
Clever girl
Youve got it all but youre all messed up
Time now turn around
Move onto something else
You know its all in your head
Youd better put that business to bed
What you see nobody sees
It only brings you to your knees
Clever girl
Think youre right
But whats right from wrong?
Little miss genius
You make it hard on yourself
song performed by by Kylie Minogue
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Clever father, clever daughter; clever mother, clever son.
The Seasons of Hope
I wonder if the wind will blow from the east,
When we rise in the Spring to a promising feast,
To welcome the buds as they gently unfold,
And my Rose of all flowers the queen.
I wonder if the wind will blow from the south,
With the heat of the sun like a furnace's mouth;
And the roses of June braving colours so bold,
In contrast with verdure green.
I wonder if the wind will blow from the west,
When Autumn is heralding Summer's bequest,
And the last rose of summer as in centuries old
Fades away, lacking lustre and sheen.
I wonder if the wind will blow from the north,
When the flurries of snowflakes come sallying forth;
And my loved one and I will bend to the cold,
Though inwardly warm and serene.
Let the wind blow its will, be it gale, be it light,
Let it blow itself out in the dark of the night;
Let the sky be dark azure or glorious gold,
There's no hope in a future foreseen.
poem by Pius Dapre
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The Burning Babe
AS I in hoary winter's night
Stood shivering in the snow,
Surprised I was with sudden heat
Which made my heart to glow;
And lifting up a fearful eye
To view what fire was near,
A pretty babe all burning bright
Did in the air appear;
Who, scorched with excessive heat,
Such floods of tears did shed,
As though His floods should quench His flames,
Which with His tears were bred:
'Alas!' quoth He, 'but newly born
In fiery heats I fry,
Yet none approach to warm their hearts
Or feel my fire but I!
'My faultless breast the furnace is;
The fuel, wounding thorns;
Love is the fire, and sighs the smoke;
The ashes, shames and scorns;
The fuel Justice layeth on,
And Mercy blows the coals,
The metal in this furnace wrought
Are men's defiled souls:
For which, as now on fire I am
To work them to their good,
So will I melt into a bath,
To wash them in my blood.'
With this He vanish'd out of sight
And swiftly shrunk away,
And straight I called unto mind
That it was Christmas Day.
poem by Robert Southwell
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