Ruined Souls
Decayed tombstones, broken-winged angels
still breathing in this courtyard.
The old kings, heroes and warriors having a long term rest
after a brutal murder.
cemetery flowers; some withered
but some in bloom.
there is no room for the spectators and tresspassers
who search their ancestors.
chains, swords, crowns, rings bracelets and bangles
all had been turned to dust.
nothing remained.
even their names and addresses
everything washed and vanished
by the heavy rains.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Related quotes
Gypsey Eyes
It was the eyes that drew me in
Slinking 'round in every direction
Dark as the deepest midnight
Shifting by self-imposed selection
It was the bracelets and eyes together
Clanking bangles and dark brown surprise
Feather boa's and eyes that offerd no alibi's
Dangling rings from the ears of the skies
It was the seduction of one
By a vagabond thief in disguise
She was all: feathers, bangles and fluff
With the most incredible Gypsey Eyes
poem by Theodora Onken
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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
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After the War
A songbird on a decayed pole
shivering and woebegone.
nothing remained
everything has turned to dust
except a pauper's inn.
In the darkness
he was searching out of the debris
Alladin's wonderful lamp.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Premeditation
Oh blade you'll warm tonight!
Awash in crimson-purple flows,
Your sheen will dull with aching flesh:
Palpating anatomic mounds
Caressing, dancing, writhing round
Your metal form-
Whetted ‘gainst a lonely bone,
Then to probe the pounding, begging heart.
And all the while the prey will howl
Before they crumple; greet the mud-
A taut and unbelieving jowl
Will open out for giving blood-
A vent from down below,
Once a brutal show
Of metal in the man.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
murder
murder murder
murder murder
murder murder murder murder murder murder
murder murder murder murder murder murder murder
murder murder murder murder murder murder
murder murder
murder murder
murder
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Angel of Death
We found rest when he was absent,
They were in death, in life with absence.
We curved the living as a luxury
To sustain our feelings and emotions
Successfully achieved by our whims and wishes.
Gangs of angels were visualised and found,
Like the dead, these accomplished profoundly,
But a doubt never remained as to why we read
The images of light as something called everything.
The angels became us when they were young and we old.
The death remained on us when we were dead
And living concerned us, as a term to use once.
The deathly ones saw our eyes and ears move,
Where were the angels of death?
poem by Naveed Akram
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Ring Of Grass
Rings of grass crowns of flowers they're gone gone gone gone
Furs that I woven of whispering hours gone gone gone gone
She's gone away where the rings are real
And the furs have warmth that a woman can feel
Round and round round goes the wheel
And she's gone gone gone gone gone
Rings of grass and crowns of flowers gone gone gone gone
Castles of sand with seashell towers gone gone gone gone
She's gone away where the dreams are small
But the castles are rock and they never fall
And left me here to live among all that is gone gone gone gone gone
Rings of grass oh why did they die away gone gone gone gone
Whispering hours where did they fly away gone gone gone gone
And where is the wisdom to understand
That years would crumble our castles of sand
And the flowers and grass turn brown in our hands
When it's gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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One Day
one day
your feet take you to the cemetery
on tombstones
you pass by and read some names
you read a name
and you shall remember a certain poem
this is his name
he is dressed and he is not going anywhere
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Epitaph Of An Athiest
one day
your feet take you to the cemetery
on tombstones
you pass by and read some names
you read a name
and you shall remember a certain poem
this is it
'she is dressed and she is not going anywhere'
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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All That We Let In
Oooooooo
Oooooooo
Oooooooo
Dust in our eyes our own boots kicked up
Heartsick we nursed along the way we picked up
You may not see it when it's sticking to your skin
But we're better off for all that we let in
Lost friends and loved ones much too young
So much promises and work left undone
When all that guards us is a single centerline
And the brutal crossing over when it's time
Oooooooo
(I don't know where it all begins)
Oooooooo
(And I don't know where it all will end)
Oooooooo
(We're better off for all that we let in)
One day those toughies will be withered up and bent
The father son the holy warriors and the president
With glory days of put up dukes for all the world to see
Beaten into submission in the name of the free
We're in a revolution I have heard it said
Everyone's so busy now but do we move ahead
The planets hurting and atoms splitting
And a sweater for your love you sit there knitting
Oooooooo
(I don't know where it all begins)
Oooooooo
(And I don't know where it all will end)
Oooooooo
(We're better off for all that we let in)
See those crosses on the side of the road
>Tied with ribbons in the median
They make me grateful I can go this far
Lay me down and never wake me up again
Kat writes a poem and she sticks it on my truck
We don't believe in war and we don't believe in luck
The birds were calling to her what were they saying
As the gate blew open the tops of the trees were swaying
I've passed the cemetery walk my dog down there
I read the names in stone and say a silent prayer
When I get home you're cooking supper on the stove
And the greatest gift of life is to know love
Oooooooo
(I don't know where it all begins)
Oooooooo
(And I don't know where it all will end)
Oooooooo
(We're better off for all that we let in)
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Weekend Warriors
Ten thousand stallions runnin wild
They dare to race the devils child
The race is on, hold tight the reins
They shared a week of broken chains
Wheels turnin, wheels burnin
See the eagles fly
Weekend warriors ...
Like shining knights
Of days gone by
Theyre born again
Theyll never die
Wheels turnin, wheels burnin
See the angels fly
Weekend warriors ...
Like silver lighting from the sky
These gold-clad horses thunder by
Weekend warriors ...
song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Reconciliation
SOME may have blamed you that you took away
The verses that could move them on the day
When, the ears being deafened, the sight of the eyes blind
With lightning, you went from me, and I could find
Nothing to make a song about but kings,
Helmets, and swords, and half-forgotten things
That were like memories of you -- but now
We'll out, for the world lives as long ago;
And while we're in our laughing, weeping fit,
Hurl helmets, crowns, and swords into the pit.
But, dear, cling close to me; since you were gone,
My barren thoughts have chilled me to the bone.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Whisper Softly, Stainless Lilies
WHISPER softly, stainless Lilies,
As you fold each snowy cup
Over soldiers who are sleep,
With their war-tents folded up.
Bear to them our loving message,
In thy sweet unwritten speech;
Chime, white bells, above them softly,
Echoes only angels teach.
Tell them, Roses, as you wither,
Tho' their dust shall heed you not;
Still by song and flag and blossom
We would prove them unforgot.
Show them, Pansy's purple shadow,
Through thy heart of golden bloom,
How the light of deeds heroic
Overlies the darkened tomb.
Passion-flow's with mystic meaning,
Lordly, bannered Fleur-de-Lis.
Mignonette and pale Narcissus,
Soldier dust, we give to thee.
Myrtle crown and Laurel chaplet,
Fragrant things that bloom and die,—
These, O camp of silent sleepers!
Over every outpost lie.
These we leave with loving message—
Crowns, the faithful Earth will keep,
While the sacred dust of heroes
Still she softly holds asleep.
poem by Ethel Lynn Beers from All Quiet along the Potomac and other poems (1879)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Three Quatrains
I
As long as Fame's imperious music rings
Will poets mock it with crowned words august;
And haggard men will clamber to be kings
As long as Glory weighs itself in dust.
II
Drink to the splendor of the unfulfilled,
Nor shudder for the revels that are done:
The wines that flushed Lucullus are all spilled,
The strings that Nero fingered are all gone.
III
We cannot crown ourselves with everything,
Nor can we coax the Fates for us to quarrel:
No matter what we are, or what we sing,
Time finds a withered leaf in every laurel.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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A Prayer For The Sad Ones
I watch cut flowers droop and die
Right in my cozy room
And thoughts arise of homeless men
Who lost their childhood's bloom
There was a time when each of them
Was innocent and young
They may have had a parent, too
Now lost, unknown, unsung
But soon their paths began to twist
In hardship's brutal strife
And bit by bit they came undone
Skid row was now their life
My hope is that a seed or two
From flowers dropp to earth
And that the miracle of growth
Will sprout a brand new birth
Could it be, too, that one sad soul
Whose days are filled with dread
Might one day reach for wings of grace
And grab faith's golden thread?
I watch cut flowers droop and die
Right in my cozy room
And thoughts arise of homeless men
Who lost their childhood's bloom.
poem by Liilia Talts Morrison
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Some Flowers Bloom Dead
We didnt make it
We did not pull through
You shouldnt blame me
I dont blame you
Now what else did you think
That I would do?
Ooooh as if it wasnt hard enough
Im so tired of waking up
Feeling bad
You havent been the kind of place I have
Could it hurt you now
To let this pass?
Oooooh as if it wasnt hard enough
You want to make it so much harder
Now in another world
I could learn to forget
But til then Im here
Making room for new regrets
Now some flowers they never bloom
And some flowers just bloom dead
The way you make me feel
I could collapse
An epidemic I cannot outlast
How could you feel used
When I feel trapped?
Ooooh as if it wasnt hard enough
And just as my conscience
Starts to clear
I drag the river and youre still there
The way I bring you down
Could not compare
Ooooh as if it wasnt hard enough
You want to make it so much harder
Now in another world
I could learn to forget
But til then Im here
Making room for new regrets
Now some flowers they never bloom
But some flowers just bloom dead
Now some flowers they never bloom
And some flowers just bloom dead
The way I sleep
This bed just cant be made
I pull the covers up around my head
Now when I think of me
I think of somebody else instead
As if it wasnt hard enough
Youre gonna make it so much harder
Now in another world
I could learn to forget
But til then Im here
Making room for new regrets
Now some flowers they never bloom
And some flowers just bloom dead
Now some flowers they never bloom
And some flowers they just bloom dead
song performed by by Wallflowers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Some Flowers Bloom Dead
We didnt make it
We did not pull through
You shouldnt blame me
I dont blame you
Now what else did you think
That I would do?
Ooooh as if it wasnt hard enough
Im so tired of waking up
Feeling bad
You havent been the kind of place I have
Could it hurt you now
To let this pass?
Oooooh as if it wasnt hard enough
You want to make it so much harder
Now in another world
I could learn to forget
But til then Im here
Making room for new regrets
Now some flowers they never bloom
And some flowers just bloom dead
The way you make me feel
I could collapse
An epidemic I cannot outlast
How could you feel used
When I feel trapped?
Ooooh as if it wasnt hard enough
And just as my conscience
Starts to clear
I drag the river and youre still there
The way I bring you down
Could not compare
Ooooh as if it wasnt hard enough
You want to make it so much harder
Now in another world
I could learn to forget
But til then Im here
Making room for new regrets
Now some flowers they never bloom
But some flowers just bloom dead
Now some flowers they never bloom
And some flowers just bloom dead
The way I sleep
This bed just cant be made
I pull the covers up around my head
Now when I think of me
I think of somebody else instead
As if it wasnt hard enough
Youre gonna make it so much harder
Now in another world
I could learn to forget
But til then Im here
Making room for new regrets
Now some flowers they never bloom
And some flowers just bloom dead
Now some flowers they never bloom
And some flowers they just bloom dead
song performed by by Wallflowers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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154
The sky is an encrypted silver table
set with candles and ghostly bangles;
weaving mischief all night long
winds, gaunt predators,
straddle the courtyard.
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Jerusalem Is Surrounded
Pageants of gray wolverines
Fallen flowers with synced teeth
The flattery of Persian armies
Minced dreams deep in frozen water
Everything wanes into ashes
Motion of thrills without base
Islands of cement still as enemies
Foghorns are my only poems
Sinful roses fade like winter
The times of freedom diminish
Persecution from the will to power
Esau has brought his curse
The bells no longer dirge
They have buried my desire
We approach the mountains
Towers of self-indulgence
Every minaret is now my enemy
Tolerance cannot bare intolerance
Underground in caverns of catacombs
Search the ancient funerals
Search the tumbrels of Antioch
Fields of blood before Augustine
No elegized Corinthian Plato
Weary of serpents the innocent chant
Columns of martyrs serene in eternity
Liquid gold melts the long confession
Stagger like wounded warriors
No Teutonic knight shall prevail
No onward dialectic shall win
I can only go down on my knees
Indolence has been broken
I seek the things above
The broken wind sighs with time
These shelters of stone wither
Pyres bring changes that die
Generations fade into vapor
Console the cruel fate of Delphi
Self knowledge becomes a grave
Tear down the pirate sails
Chain Prometheus with myth
The god of war rides with treatise
Books of pyramids and ancient angels
Fire of Persian scrolls
Every meadow converted into dross
Chains surround the house of wisdom
Succulent concubines wait for kings
The west surrenders slowly
Jerusalem is surrounded
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Knife
Slit and
Slither knife
Penetrate in phallic push
To perforate the pulse of tissues in the flesh
Slice a vein to drain the unsuspecting victim
E’er they bleed and plea
Their scream
Of death
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
murder
murder murder
murder murder
murder murder murder murder murder murder
murder murder murder murder murder murder murder
murder murder murder murder murder murder
murder murder
murder murder
murder
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Part Of The Big Family Tree
retrace the steps
finding the footprints of my ancestors
their fingers carved in the limestones
of old spanish churches and
municipal halls
howling sounds of their sufferings
on forced labor and constant whippings
they found the escape on wooden boats
paddling their way
tossed by big waves
and uncertain dark nights
towards the Sulu sea
they found land where they are free
built their houses and made love all the way
bathe in the wide and long winding rivers
embraced the sea and acquired their territories
for years the wrote their names on the long lists
on tombstones
i am here and they are pleased
i am writing about them
and what they started once
i shall continue
what they have seen i shall see again
on this big tree with roots down the deepest earth
and branches and twigs like a hundred hands and fingers
strecthing out to the skies
i am one of the buds
coming out from its bark
i have tiny breathing cells spreading looking out for more openings
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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