A poor Carpenter writes
Though I sandpaper this rough life
This abrasive substance won't smooth it
Ebony is hard to polish
And life gives an antique value
With a matt finish!
*To the silent poet Ebn Zaiat!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Your Woulda Be Smooth
If you treat me decently,
I'd be the last one to scratch your number.
If you treat me decently,
I'd put the sandpaper to rough lumber.
If you treat me decently...
Your woulda be smooth.
If you treat me decently,
I'd be the last one to scratch your number.
If you treat me decently,
I'd put the sandpaper to rough lumber.
If you treat me decently...
Your woulda be smooth.
No shoulda coulda.
Your woulda be smooth.
No suit too loose.
Your woulda be smooth.
No loot to boot.
Your woulda be smooth.
And you can do anything you wish to do,
Cause...
Your woulda be smooth!
If you wanna stay cute,
You've gotta keep your mouth muted.
And...
your woulda be smooth.
If you treat me decently,
I'd be the last one to scratch your number.
If you treat me decently,
I'd put the sandpaper to rough lumber.
If you treat me decently...
Your woulda be smooth.
No shoulda coulda.
Your woulda be smooth.
No suit too loose.
Your woulda be smooth.
No loot to boot.
Your woulda be smooth.
And you can do anything you wish to do,
Cause...
Your woulda be smooth!
If you wanna stay cute,
You've gotta keep your mouth muted,
And...
Your woulda be smooth!
If you want to be the one to put your business in the streets,
That wouldn't be cool!
If you want to be the one to keep your business in the streets,
Go ahead and be a fool!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Empty As The Air
A life of substance, is always one that is desired.
But what of the substance you speak of?
How do you define it?
For ones man's junk is another man's treasure.
Substance is what we make of it.
Leading an interesting life in the gallows, could be considered a life of substance if that is what he desires.
Are you trying say he is saying pity me I have not lived an interesting life, one full of life changing, learning, and ever different experiences?
Do go on, as we investigate the brain.
Put it under some light.
What is really their?
Hmm, I can only wonder.
Maybe it is something empty as the air.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Kiss Me Red
I could paint your picture in the sky tonight
Your lipstick on the moon it shines so bright
Baby its full and white
Honey its full tonight
(chorus 1)
So kiss me red
Kiss me rogue
Kiss me rough
Kiss me smooth
Oh..
I could paint your picture in my room tonight
Your bodys on my mind its clear and bright
Oh but youre far away
And what I wouldnt pay
(chorus 2)
To kiss you red
Kiss you rogue
Kiss you rough
Kiss you smooth
Oh..
Its black out
And Im alone in the dark
But light a candle to replace your heart
What I wouldnt give to have you here in my bed
So kiss me red
Kiss me rogue
Kiss me rough
Kiss me smooth
Oh..
To kiss you red
Kiss you rogue
Kiss you rough
Kiss you smooth
Oh..
So kiss me red
Kiss me rogue
Kiss me rough
Kiss me smooth
Oh..
To kiss you red
Kiss you rogue
Kiss you rough
Kiss you smooth
Oh..
So kiss me red
Kiss me rogue
Kiss me rough
Kiss me smooth
Oh..
song performed by by Cheap Trick
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Poet I Am', And 'The Poet I Am Not
The poet I am, and the poet I am not
‘The poet I am’ says
To ‘the poet I am not’,
‘Why can’t I be more like you? ’
And ‘the poet I am not’ says
‘Because you are not good enough’
And ‘the poet I am’ begins to cry,
And ‘the poet I am not’ says
‘Real poets cry for more meaningful things’
And ‘the poet I am’ says ‘I am who I am and what I will be means so much to me. But still I am not the poet I wanted to be’.
And ‘the poet I am not’ says
‘Exactly. Were you less concerned with who you are and more concerned with others you might be a bit more of a poet than you are now.’
And ‘the poet I am’ is silent.
And ‘the poet I am not’is somewhere else being someone else
That ‘the poet I am and the poet I am not’ cannot see or dream.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Starting All Over Again
Starting all over again is gonna be rough, so rough
But were gonna make it
Starting all over as friends is gonna be rough, on us
But we gotta face it
We lost what we had
Thats why it hurt so bad
It set us back a thousand years
Were gonna make it up
Though its gonna be rough
To erase all the hurt and tears
Starting all over again is gonna be hard
But I pray that the love will help us make it
Starting all over again is gonna be slow
But we both know that we can make it
We gotta take life as it comes
And never worry about whos right or wrong
Its an uphill climb
To the finish line
Were gonna try to make it
One more time
Starting all over again is gonna be rough, so rough
But were gonna make it
Starting all over as friends is gonna be tough, on us
But we gotta face it
Starting all over again is gonna be hard
But I pray that the love will help us make it
Starting all over again is gonna be slow
We both know that were gonna make it
song performed by by Hall & Oates
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life Is Lost In You
Life is difficult as we know it is now
Life is rough as we spiral out of control
Life is mean as the people who make it mean
Life is hard living on your own
Life is scary when you get hurt
Life is real and no can change that
Life is kind when you find your first love
Life is caring when he holds you in his arms
Life is nice and he will protect you in anyway
Life is easy with the help of the ones around you
Life is bold with the ones in it
Life is good when people are good
Life is happy when you are happy
Life is unbearable when you cry
Life is crashing as you know it
Life is holding you down
Life is causing problems
Life is and can be turned around
poem by Marilee Morley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poem about Poetry - a premature death
to let the poet in them die
their mind must have fallen
flat like a corpse
cant the moon not be
made a queen so that
she could doze off in the
light of his care?
nay, of course, they
did not let the poet go to sleep
he was wrapped
and bundled away in the
shadows of the day
by the flood of sweats
to bring the food on the table
by the torrent of thoughts
to get life smooth sailing
the poet, the poet, he can
sleep for a while and hopefull
will not die too prematurely
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ice and Concrete
Ice is smooth yet hard.
Concrete is rough and hard
Good leaders are ice like.
10.10.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I could not finish the rest of the tours the band had planned. I was replaced by Matt Cameron. The next years of my life were about recovery, healing, and right living. I never lost the need to create.
quote by Jack Irons
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If anybody wanted to photograph my life, they'd get bored in a day. 'Heres Matt at home learning his lines. Here's Matt researching in aisle six of his local library'. A few hours of that and they'd go home.
quote by Matt Damon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life Is Hard
Life is hard anyway you cut it
Life is sweet like a berry from a tre
Life is temptation, baby, every single day
Life is hard
Life is funny, I dont mean ha-ha
Its not always sunny when it needs to be
Life is frightening, nothing lasts forever
Life is hard
My time
Is next to nothing
My time
Falls on you, yeah
Everything
Is in motion
Life is hard
Life is precious, no matter how you see it
Life is crazy like yellow fishes in the street
Life is lonely, when youre not with me
Life is hard
Gentleman,
Is that your story?
Hanging religion from a tree, yeah
My time is next to nothing
Life is hard
My time
Is next to nothing
My time
Falls on you, yeah
Everything
Is in motion
Life is hard
My time
Falls on you, yeah
Life is hard
Life is hard
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Singer Of Blues...writer Of Prose
A good poet can be likened
to an old blues singer
You’ve got to have experienced life
in all it’s rainbow variations
You’ve got to have the scars
From life’s long, hard winter
You’ve got to show the lines…
The creases and striations
Songs torn from life
With gut-wrenching intensity
Words expressed on small black keyboard
Marine band harmonica expressing emotions
A plaintive E-chord…long ebony fingers
Sorrow…sadness…smallness…immensity
Memories addressed, then electronically stored
While back porch steps record…only evanescent devotions
Singer of blues…purveyor of prose
Both rent ragged, both experience-rich
Both life -haggard, …with hopes and woes
Blues singer, prose writer…same niche
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Get Up
Sleep delays my life (get up, get up)
Where does time go? (get up, get up, get up)
I dont know
Sleep, sleep, sleepy head (get up, get up, get up)
Wake it up...up (get up, get up)
Youve got all your life (way up ahead) (get up, get up, get up)
Dreams they complicate my life (dreams they complement my life)
Ive seen you laying pined (get up, get up)
Ive seen you laying pined (get up, get up)
Life is rough...rough (get up, get up, get up)
Ive seen you laying down (get up)
With the loving kind (get up, get up)
I know life is hard...hard (where goes your time? )
Where to turn? where to turn?
Dreams they complicate my life (dreams they complement my life)
Dreamtime...
Dreams they complicate my life (dreams they complement my life)
This time, no escape, I wake up. (get up, get up)
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Astigmatism
The Poet took his walking-stick
Of fine and polished ebony.
Set in the close-grained wood
Were quaint devices;
Patterns in ambers,
And in the clouded green of jades.
The top was smooth, yellow ivory,
And a tassel of tarnished gold
Hung by a faded cord from a hole
Pierced in the hard wood,
Circled with silver.
For years the Poet had wrought upon this cane.
His wealth had gone to enrich it,
His experiences to pattern it,
His labour to fashion and burnish it.
To him it was perfect,
A work of art and a weapon,
A delight and a defence.
The Poet took his walking-stick
And walked abroad.
Peace be with you, Brother.
The Poet came to a meadow.
Sifted through the grass were daisies,
Open-mouthed, wondering, they gazed at the sun.
The Poet struck them with his cane.
The little heads flew off, and they lay
Dying, open-mouthed and wondering,
On the hard ground.
"They are useless. They are not roses," said the Poet.
Peace be with you, Brother. Go your ways.
The Poet came to a stream.
Purple and blue flags waded in the water;
In among them hopped the speckled frogs;
The wind slid through them, rustling.
The Poet lifted his cane,
And the iris heads fell into the water.
They floated away, torn and drowning.
"Wretched flowers," said the Poet,
"They are not roses."
Peace be with you, Brother. It is your affair.
The Poet came to a garden.
Dahlias ripened against a wall,
Gillyflowers stood up bravely for all their short stature,
And a trumpet-vine covered an arbour
With the red and gold of its blossoms.
Red and gold like the brass notes of trumpets.
The Poet knocked off the stiff heads of the dahlias,
And his cane lopped the gillyflowers at the ground.
Then he severed the trumpet-blossoms from their stems.
Red and gold they lay scattered,
Red and gold, as on a battle field;
Red and gold, prone and dying.
"They were not roses," said the Poet.
Peace be with you, Brother.
But behind you is destruction, and waste places.
The Poet came home at evening,
And in the candle-light
He wiped and polished his cane.
The orange candle flame leaped in the yellow ambers,
And made the jades undulate like green pools.
It played along the bright ebony,
And glowed in the top of cream-coloured ivory.
But these things were dead,
Only the candle-light made them seem to move.
"It is a pity there were no roses," said the Poet.
Peace be with you, Brother. You have chosen your part.
poem by Amy Lowell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Silent
Silent when I have nothing to say.
Silent just to avoid the fray.
Silent when I am not sure.
Silent—I can't stand anymore.
Silent when you make me mad.
Silent I am when times are sad.
Silent when I am too shy.
Silent when I want to cry.
Silent as I carry life's load.
Silent... I may soon explode.
poem by Shaqueena Celestin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Life's End
Then life was a wonderful happiness,
If its commencement was fulfilled by soceity,
If its finish was not of unhappiness
And the ending was its finish,
The very same as Fate.
One loved the purpose of existing on the World
As we were thrust headlong into peril of work
Yet made a finish.
The perils are to demand a finish,
and leave us with splendour,
To find Height at the Heaven.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Life
Life is not a bed of roses
Life is full of ups and downs
Life, they say, is what you make it
Or, maybe, how you make it
But it seems to me rather curious
Why a greater group of God's creations
Would choose to make their lives
Bumpy, lumpy and clumpy
Instead of bouncy and bubbly
Some clearly act carelessly
Do things remarkably recklessly
Never learning from their bloopers
Always blooming in their bloomers
Making for themselves
Lives lined with lack
Presences padded with pointless poverty
Life is palpably how they play it
But what about those humans
Who loyally lead their lives
Striving to do the right things
Actually doing them perfectly
Yet try, very hard, as they could
Find themselves, struggling
To get disentangled
From life's strangling
Is life how they made it?
Is life as they like it?
Questions begging for answers
But it seems that poet is right
He wrote: some men are born great
Others achieve greatness
While others have greatness thrust upon them
Life is thus not only how you make it
But also how you are helped to make it
The funding firstly from the Father
Then furthermore from the world
Parents, family, friends or others
Whatever the source of the support
Proper purpose is primary
To reaping the required reward
And enhancing your life
But one thing seems crystal clear
No matter what one does
Born with silver spoon in mouth
Or born unto a mound
Life is seldom a smooth situation
It is a war of many worries
It is a race on a tedious track
With Life's rumples really revealed
When a person travels that trail
Life is not our type of race
What counts with life's race
Is the resolve with which you race
And whether you complete the chase
Finishing gallantly is winning
This qualifies you for an accolade
As many as finish the course
Are thus worthy winners
In life's challenging race
Complete the course with zest
And cross the line with zeal
That is what certainly counts.
It will make you to be counted
poem by Emmanuel Oduro
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Egemonu
The beginning of anything is very rough at times!
But the end of it may turn out to be smooth;
For life is like your lips on your lover at times.
Egemonu,
You've had many years to stay at home;
And i do know that life is moving on well with you as well,
But try to look back one day to think about your days in Ghana.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mirror
Mirror
Rema Prasanna
Mirror on the matt finished wall
reflected me in real
The carved wooden frame from
an antique collection
replicate my image in factual
masures
Is it me I wonder in anguish?
The same mirror not long ago
cheered me up in mornings
where I see now only a mirage
an image of over tested age
and one forgiving hand note
a few alphabets from conflicting
dictionary of life
a façade I describe in mindless
anticipation
Synopsis of life ruled out a
remote control scroll back
to tune it all again afresh
Certain objects only move forward
in self assurance I confirm it as
the transpiring mirror of life
poem by Rema Prasanaa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A wishful thinking
What I had wished throughout life?
No trouble, nice spending with beautiful wife,
Children to remain very close and playing,
I knelt down before HIM for praying
I wanted the life to be challenging and very hard
I didn’t want to make it substandard
It has its own advantage or disadvantage
It is to be lived and nicely managed
I also didn’t want it to be very hard and tough
I never wished that people should behave very rough
I desired it to be very smooth sailing
To go in for all chances and availing
I want to lead the life with honor
I never wished it to be spent in corner
I should witness easy going,
why should I witness stone throwing?
I have been blessed with all comforts
People love me and maintain good rapports
I seek their approval in all my affairs
We were known as lovely pair
I have made life as easy as possible
So many created hurdles and made it impossible
He stood be my side and lead to happy end,
All had beautiful feelings and messages were also sent,
I have no regrets, no ill feelings or whatsoever of any kind
I have not allowed them to rule and place to find
I continue to seek His blessings with sincere prayers
There is no one to go with arguments or act as buyers
It is individual’s wish to mould the life in a way he wants
People may offer bad comments with clear taunts
It is there way of dealing with innocent and nice persons
I see no logic behind it with enough reasons
They may try to drag in you in unnecessary controversies
They may also pretend to be close friends with their adversaries
It is simple way of fooling and lands them in trouble
There may prevail uneasy calm before rise of bubbles
Life needs to be trimmed as per our wish
It must have full freedom of movement as that of fish
The pond may be very fast with enough of space
There is no hurry to enter into mad race
It is professed in very clear terms
Life can be made easy or hard in turns
It is totally in our hand to make it smooth
There lies no suspicion but only truth
It has to be grand design
We must honestly live to resign
The path may not be easy but rough
Let us not add anything to it and make tough
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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