Pen-pusher's penitent
With the ink of blood
he scribbles on a scratch paper in the midnight
to move the mountains.
A penniless, wealthier in heart
lives near by the pauper's graveyard.
Day time a gravedigger
and a handsome lover to the girl
who comes to collect
withered flowers of the wreaths.
To the poet Roy.Storey
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Why you so inquisitive of my whereabouts?
My night school's still dark
and the road I walk
Tar always black!
On the way,
I see rare night flowers,
They too have pearly white teeth
when they smile?
O the white Goddess
as passing clouds.
The white board in the gloomy class
Colored teacher writes on
with a piece of black chalk
A poem to recite;
'When forget-me-not
covers the old pauper's graveyard
Everybody thinks
It's the garden of Eden?
But in cruel Autumn
When the flowers withered
It's still the pauper's graveyard? '
[ From Father have I my stature,
my zest for earnest living;
From little Mother
my gay nature,
My love of story-telling.]-Goethe
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Please Mr. Gravedigger
There's a little churchyard just along the way
It used to be lambeth's finest array
Of tombstones, epitaphs, wreaths, flowers all that jazz
Till the war came along and someone dropped a bomb on the lot
And in this little yard, there's a little old man
With a little shovel in his little bitty hand
He seems to spend all his days puffing fags and digging graves
He hates the reverend vicar and he lives all alone in his home
Ah-choo ! excuse me
Please mr. gravedigger, don't feel ashamed
As you dig little holes for the dead and the maimed
Please mr. gravedigger, i couldn't care
If you found a golden locket full of some girl's hair
And you put it in your pocket
God, it's pouring down
Her mother doesn't know about your sentimental joy
She thinks it's down below with the rest of her toys
And ma wouldn't understand, so i won't tell
So keep your golden locket all safely hid away in your pocket
Yes, mr. gd, you see me every day , st ....ah choo !
Standing in the same spot by a certain grave
Mary-ann was only 10, full of life and oh so gay
And i was the wicked man who took her life away
Very selfish, oh god
No, mr. gd, you won't tell
And just to make sure that you keep it to yourself
I've started digging holes myself
And this one here's for you
Lifted our girl, she apparently doesn't know of it
Hello misses, thought she'd be a little girl
Bloody obscene, catch pneumonia or something in this rain
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Every Girl
To every girl that's said, 'Sex CAN wait'
To every girl that's said, 'You're handsome.'
To every girl that was never too busy to drive across town to see him.
To every girl that gives flowers and a card when he is sick.
To every girl who has given him flowers just because.
To every girl that said she would die for him.
To every girl that really would.
To every girl that took time to do what he wanted to do.
To every girl that he cried in front of.
To every girl that holds hands with him.
To every girl that kisses him with meaning.
To every girl that hugs him when he's sad.
To every girl that hugs him for no reason at all.
To every girl who would give their jacket up for him.
To every girl that calls to make sure he got home safe.
To every girl that would sit and wait for him for hours
just to see him for ten minutes.
To every girl that would give her seat up.
To every girl that just wants to cuddle.
To every girl that reassured that he was handsome
no matter what.
To every girl who told her secrets to him.
To every girl that tried to show how much she cared
through every word and every breath.
To every girl that thought maybe this could be the one.
To every girl that believed in his dreams.
To every girl that would have done anything
so he could achieve them.
To every girl that never laughed at him
when she told him her dreams.
To every girl that walked him to his car.
To every girl that gave her heart.
To every girl who prays that he is happy
even if she is not with him.
...This one bulletin is for you...
Not many girls appreciate nice guys anymore...
And because of this, there are not many left out there...
I guarantee 90% of the women on your page will not re post this because they care more about their image
If you are a nice girl re post this with 'We're a Dying Breed '
If you are a guy that thinks every girl should treat a guy this way
re post this with: 'To Every Girl...'
poem by Eliot Perez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Scattered Dew Drops On The Sleepy Grass!
Hey! You hear the secret cries of the pale blue sky
In the morning she pretends nothing has happened
in the previous night.
The tear drops certainly disappear in the Sunrise
And my little orphan girl don't get tired with your cane basket,
Leave the dew aside and collect few flowers for the altar!
She cannot speak but her depressed eyes talk?
'Flowers too wither Grandpa! '
Her gloomy eyes murmured like a sinsong
And the gravedigger hugs her thinking of his far away grand daughter!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Paper Flowers
You seem like a girl who likes to tell her bed is made
You seem like a girl who likes to wear her pearls
Well Im not the type who likes to dwell,
Save my money or kiss and tell, yeah
Oh why does she water them, paper flowers?
This girl walks up so graciously,
Slips something in my pocket so secretly,
I said: honey, whats this you gave to me?
Oh nothing, water, wait and see
I said: paper flowers, they cant grow!
Just giveem water and let me know,
Giveem water and let me know, giveem water
And let me know
Oh why does she water them, paper flowers?
Paper flowers...
Oh why does she water them, paper flowers?
Paper flowers...
Shes dressed in black as you can see,
She tries so damn hard to be the enemy,
Shes got big black boots, get outta her way,
She wants to kick tomorrow, punch yesterday,
Kick tomorrow, punch yesterday
Oh why does she water them, paper flowers?
Paper flowers...
Turn a light on, turn a different light on
Turn a light on, turn a different light on now
Turn a light on, turn a different light on
Turn a light on, turn a different light on now!
Oh why does she water them, paper flowers?
Paper flowers...
song performed by by Live
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An unforgettable blossom
If you bloom at the razor's edge,
Then I have to get ready for the war my dearest.
If I die in the battlefield,
Please bury me in an unknown lover's graveyard.
* A young recruit scribbles on the rifle butt while resting in a campsite.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love And Death
(WB Yeats)
Behold the flashing waters
A cloven dancing jet,
That from the milk-white marble
For ever foam and fret;
Far off in drowsy valleys
Where the meadow saffrons blow,
The feet of summer dabble
In their coiling calm and slow.
The banks are worn forever
By a people sadly gay:
A Titan with loud laughter,
Made them of fire clay.
Go ask the springing flowers,
And the flowing air above,
What are the twin-born waters,
And they'll answer Death and Love.
With wreaths of withered flowers
Two lonely spirits wait
With wreaths of withered flowers
'Fore paradise's gate.
They may not pass the portal
Poor earth-enkindled pair,
Though sad is many a spirit
To pass and leave them there
Still staring at their flowers,
That dull and faded are.
If one should rise beside thee,
The other is not far.
Go ask the youngest angel,
She will say with bated breath,
By the door of Mary's garden
Are the spirits Love and Death.
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love And Death
(WB Yeats)
Behold the flashing waters
A cloven dancing jet,
That from the milk-white marble
For ever foam and fret;
Far off in drowsy valleys
Where the meadow saffrons blow,
The feet of summer dabble
In their coiling calm and slow.
The banks are worn forever
By a people sadly gay:
A Titan with loud laughter,
Made them of fire clay.
Go ask the springing flowers,
And the flowing air above,
What are the twin-born waters,
And they'll answer Death and Love.
With wreaths of withered flowers
Two lonely spirits wait
With wreaths of withered flowers
'Fore paradise's gate.
They may not pass the portal
Poor earth-enkindled pair,
Though sad is many a spirit
To pass and leave them there
Still staring at their flowers,
That dull and faded are.
If one should rise beside thee,
The other is not far.
Go ask the youngest angel,
She will say with bated breath,
By the door of Mary's garden
Are the spirits Love and Death.
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Graveyard In The Sky
Dad's, mothers, grandmothers, grandfathers, brother, sisters, aunt, and Uncles died at their home here on earth some time ago
And then they were all buried in the graveyard in the sky
But their in the sky nobody steals the grave in the graveyard
Also there are trees in the graveyard in the sky and flowers inthe garden
But the road that takes to the graveyard in the sky is paved
And sometimes you will see the memonights in their horse carriages Passing by
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Graveyard In The Sky Ii
Dad's, mothers, grandmothers, grandfathers, brother, sisters, aunt, and Uncles died at their home here on earth some time ago
And then they were all buried in the graveyard in the sky
But there in the sky nobody steals the grave in the graveyard
Also there are trees in the graveyard in the sky and flowers inthe garden
But the road that takes to the graveyard in the sky is paved
And sometimes you will see the memonights in their horse carriages Passing by
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love & Death
(wb yeats)
Behold the flashing waters
A cloven dancing jet,
That from the milk-white marble
For ever foam and fret;
Far off in drowsy valleys
Where the meadow saffrons blow,
The feet of summer dabble
In their coiling calm and slow.
The banks are worn forever
By a people sadly gay:
A titan with loud laughter,
Made them of fire clay.
Go ask the springing flowers,
And the flowing air above,
What are the twin-born waters,
And theyll answer death and love.
With wreaths of withered flowers
Two lonely spirits wait
With wreaths of withered flowers
fore paradises gate.
They may not pass the portal
Poor earth-enkindled pair,
Though sad is many a spirit
To pass and leave them there
Still staring at their flowers,
That dull and faded are.
If one should rise beside thee,
The other is not far.
Go ask the youngest angel,
She will say with bated breath,
By the door of marys garden
Are the spirits love and death.
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Softie moves smoothly
It's an early gloomy morning.
And it seems Sun forgets to rise!
The single's door is open.
A black cat mewls on the doorstep
And a gadfly enters and stays for a while.
The next door maiden comes in to give the newspaper.
You can hear a faint cry inside the house
And the penniless old man is no more.
He belongs to the pauper's graveyard
And the funeral is over quietly.
The doleful maiden writes a memorandum.
'At last he left leaving the black cat his will for me.'
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cupid's Stupid
A poet is born from a loving man,
A poem is born for every woman,
published in paper are just mere,
off record on heart so many here,
written on with a mysterious ink,
a mixture of love and a missing link,
a painful smile and a joyful cry,
a silent shout or a truthful lie,
blooming hell and a heavenly agony,
wow! what an irony!
a blood emptied heart is filled with love,
a simple word becomes a beatific verse,
yearning for someone is a blissful curse,
darling, sweetheart, my sweet angel Cinderella,
so many names for someone's inamorata,
a lover's chaste is the poem's charity,
like a rain kissed window glass without a clarity,
life goes on beautiful without a warranty,
a newborn lover's heart is the dead poet's society.
poem by Vimal Kumar N
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ballade Of A Great Weariness
There's little to have but the things I had,
There's little to bear but the things I bore.
There's nothing to carry and naught to add,
And glory to Heaven, I paid the score.
There's little to do but I did before,
There's little to learn but the things I know;
And this is the sum of a lasting lore:
Scratch a lover, and find a foe.
And couldn't it be I was young and mad
If ever my heart on my sleeve I wore?
There's many to claw at a heart unclad,
And little the wonder it ripped and tore.
There's one that'll join in their push and roar,
With stories to jabber, and stones to throw;
He'll fetch you a lesson that costs you sore:
Scratch a lover, and find a foe.
So little I'll offer to you, my lad;
It's little in loving I set my store.
There's many a maid would be flushed and glad,
And better you'll knock at a kindlier door.
I'll dig at my lettuce, and sweep my floor,
Forever, forever I'm done with woe.
And happen I'll whistle about my chore,
"Scratch a lover, and find a foe."
L'ENVOI
Oh, beggar or prince, no more, no more!
Be off and away with your strut and show.
The sweeter the apple, the blacker the core:
Scratch a lover, and find a foe!
poem by Dorothy Parker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Stairs
In a room above a busy street
The echoes of a life
The fragments and the accidents
Separated by incidents
Listened to by the walls
We share the same spaces
Repeated in the corridors
Performing the same movements
Storey to storey
Building to building
Street to street
We pass each other on the stairs
Storey to storey
Building to building
Street to street
We pass each other on the stairs
Listened to by the walls
We share the same spaces
Repeated in the corridors
Performing the same movements
The nature of your tragedy
Is chained around your neck
Do you lead or are you led
Are u sure that you dont care
There are reasons here to give your life
And follow in your way
The passion lives to keep your faith
Though all are different all are great
Climbing as we fall
We dare to hold on to our fate
And steal away our destiny
To catch ourselves with quiet grace
Storey to storey
Building to building
Street to street
We pass each other on the stairs
Listened to by the walls
We share the same spaces
Repeated in the corridors
Performing the same movements
Storey to storey
Building to building
Street to street
We pass each other on the stairs
song performed by by INXS
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Playground
For decades, it was a playground and now a pauper's graveyard.
A politician suggests to make it a playground again.
I try to collect the names of champions
But no tombs and I hear some whispers;
'What is the use of getting our names
As we cannot compete the living souls?
Let us sleep well and write down this in your notebook brother.
We do not have regrets as there is no any race further.
Mr.Reporter, if possible lets work together to ensure
That every dead soul has a right to sleep.'
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Morning Sunshine
This poet is so seductive
This poet is now strange to me
This poet is so bold
This little girl doesn't want to see
The little girl has known this poet
ever since
But the little girl is already
tired of this poet
She just wants to play.
Not any passing minute
She hasn't have
any word of
allegory
metonymy and
simile
Take me away from this poet yet
the little girl must empty first
the words of this poet
Before she is free to play
in the morning sunshine
and go away from this busy poet
Do you think I'm too young to see?
Do you agree?
This poet won't let me
play out in the middle of the rain
This poet won't let me
see the afternoon sway
This poet won't let me
see the morning gay
Let me see the Morning Sunshine
Let me see!
But this poet
Won't let me
I'll just watch t.v
and sing
her poetry
poem by Mary Jesusa Villegas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Scribbles On A Page
Scribbles on a page…
scribbles on a page…
back of a yellow notebook
torn pages out
let me go home
God!
let me go home
Scribbles on a page…
scribbles on a page…
my little black writing pad
bent cover-spine
let me go home
God!
let me go home
(i think i need a break)
(i think i need to sleep)
poem by Michael Romero
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Trials & Tribulations
The swiss miss girl made her fortune
Doing commercials on tv
But easy come, easy go was
Her philosophy
She spent all of her money
She was searching for some cash
So she went to her friend capt n crunch
Whom shed met at a hollywood bash
The second that he saw her
He said, I bet youre in need
Of some dough
Perplexed and confused she asked him,
Oh but captain how did you know?
Laughingly he responded,
It was really just a lucky hunch
With tears in her eyes she pleaded,
Will you help me out capt n crunch?
The trials and tribulations
Of the swiss miss girl
Shes got a famous reputation
And shes known throughout the world
But lifes no bed of roses
She would change things if she could
She plans to make a brand new start
And move out of hollywood
The captain now was grinning
He felt he had her in the palm of his hand
He said, darlin youre a penniless woman
And Im a wealthy man
You know the rules of the game by now
Ill scratch your back if you scratch mine
He said, let me take you out
And well talk about this
Over a bottle of wine
The swiss miss girl was disgusted
And she smacked him right in his face
Then she took his hat
And she stamped on that
Just to put him in his place
But the old man was persistent
He would not be undaunted
The more that hed been taunted
The more she turned him on
Then the captain made a pass at the swiss miss girl
Tryin to show her his affection
She screamed for help and when she did...
Mr. clean came to her protection
The trials and tribulations
Of the swiss miss girl
Shes got a famous reputation
And shes known throughout the world
But lifes no bed of roses
She would change things if she could
She plans to make a brand new start
And move out of hollywood
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Graveyard Train
On the highway, thirty people lost their lives.
On the highway, thirty people lost their lives.
Well, I had some words to holler, and my rosie took a ride.
In the moonlight, see the greyhound rollin on.
In the moonlight, see the greyhound rollin on.
Flyin through the crossroads, rosie ran into the hound.
For the graveyard, thirty boxes made of bone.
For the graveyard, thirty boxes made of bone.
Mister undertaker, take this coffin from my home.
In the midnight, hear me cryin out her name.
In the midnight, hear me cryin out her name.
Im standin on the railroad, waitin for the graveyard train.
On the highway, thirty people turned to stone.
On the highway, thirty people turned to stone.
Oh, take me to the station, cause Im number thirty-one.
song performed by by Creedence Clearwater Revival
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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