Livid Words, Garish Codes
Elucidate with ambiguous words
Lofty towers resonating an
Echolalia of a vague title
Vacillate between empty palms of an
Empire immortal yet secular, counts
Nary with prediction, nary with perdition.
poem by Norman Santos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ordinary Pain
When by the phone
In vain you sit
You very soon in your mind realize that its not just
An ordinary pain in your heart
When you by chance
Go knock on her door
Walkin away youre convinced that its much more
Than just an ordinary pain in your heart
Its more than just
An ordinary pain in your heart
When you catch up
But she says goodbye
Hold back your tears and before you start to cry
Say you feel unnecessary pain in your heart
Tell her youre glad
Its over in fact
Can she take with her the pain she brought you back
Takin that ordinary pain from your heart
Its more than just
An ordinary pain from your heart
Dont fool yourself
But tell no one else
That its more than just
An ordinary pain
In your heart
In your heart
In your heart
Part ii
Youre just a masachistic fool
Because you knew my love was cruel
You never listened when they said
Dont let that girl go to your head
But like a play boy you said no
Or*di*nary pain
This little girl mind you will blow
Or*di*nary pain
But then I blew you out the box
Or*di*nary pain
When I put my stuff on key and lock
Or*di*nary pain
It makes me feel kind of sick
Or*di*nary pain
To know love put you in a trick
Or*di*nary pain
I knew our love would have to end
Or*di*nary pain
The day I made it with your friend
Or*di*nary pain
Giving your love to one unreal
Or*di*nary pain
Like a big fool I know you feel
Or*di*nary pain
But in this lovie-dovie game
Or*di*nary pain
With all its joy there must be pain
Or*di*nary pain
But now the time has surely come
Or*di*nary pain
This game dont seem like so much fun
Or*di*nary pain
Youre cryin big corcodile tears
Or*di*nary pain
Dont match the ones Ive cried for years
Or*di*nary pain
When I was home wainting for you
Or*di*nary pain
You were out somewhere doing the do
Or*di*nary pain
You know Id really like to stay
Or*di*nary pain
But like you did Ive go to play
Or*di*nary pain
Youre dumb to think Id let you be
Or*di*nary pain
Scott free without some pain from me
Or*di*nary pain
I heard your song and took a chance
Or*di*nary pain
But to your music I cant dance
Or*di*nary pain
Go tell your story sob-sad
Or*di*nary pain
About you blowin what you had
Or*di*nary pain
Since one aint good enough for you
Or*di*nary pain
Then do yourself see how you do
Or*di*nary pain
Or*di*nary pain
Or*di*nary pain
Or*di*nary pain
Or*di*nary pain
Or*di*nary pain
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Self-broken Heart
The self-broken heart-'why? ', the quixotic ponderance!
Not though am I able to alter my life's circumstance!
Broken into myriad pieces-ne'er the same again,
2 choices now to select betwixt-one, you lose and one, you win!
What ails thee, broken hearted-
So far have we come, from wherest we started! ?
Emotions carried you, in your reckless crusade,
Nary did logic enter into decisions you made!
Now who remains to pick up the pieces, shattered?
Into a million directions they were sent-scattered!
Not would I deign to tell you though,
Alas, for I did indeed, tell you so!
Need of aid, I did establish, duly-
Nary would I have gazed thee, not the same, truly!
Maurice Harris,21 July 2008
poem by Maurice Harris
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Keep Me Strong!
Sing me a song, whereof I do belong-
Vocalize a tune for me, keep me strong!
Be my muse, I, the man you choose!
Be for me, the offer I shan't refuse!
Pay respect, yet homage; to mine own visage-
Boundless are thoughts of thee-nary are they a mirage!
Wondrous and magnificent; glorious and resplendent-
The amazing, enduring search is over-you, is where it has ended!
For you, lo, for me; this is what life is to be-
We, as a family, the world, destined to see!
Merrily, through life, we do now loiter-
Ever thankful of our eternal reconnoiter!
Limitless thoughts of thee do surely abound-
Nary a place doth exist, extrinsic to us, around!
Maurice Harris,13 December 2007
poem by Maurice Harris
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Every Little Counts
Every second counts
When I am with you
I think you are a pig
You should be in a zoo
I guess I shouldve known
Id end up on my own
Every second counts when I am with you
Every second counts
Every little counts
When I am with you
You make me feel so good
I never felt so new
I saw you long ago
Though you never let it show
Every little counts when I am with you
Every little counts when I am with you
Every second counts
When I am with you
Even though youre stupid
I still follow you
The smile upon your face,
It always stays in place
Every second counts when I am with you
Every second counts when I am with you
Every second...
song performed by by New Order
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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These seem to me so ambiguous, so vague, so easily misunderstood in comparison to genuine music, which fills the soul with a thousand things better than words.
quote by Felix Mendelssohn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There is nary a feast or a party without a monk or a priest.
A Father's Prayerful 'Conversation' With His Daughters
I wonder: do you yet know the power and import of prayer?
I ponder upon this, as surely you long too, for my presence there!
I miss thee as no means of word may properly expound;
The depths of my heart's lamentation is truly profound!
Upon that wretched day, lo so long ago, it was ripped to shred,
Each new day whereupon I lack thee, is a day I do dread!
Those that have sighted thee, tell me of your grace and lightness,
This is little consolation, I yearn still witness of your ladylikeness!
Nary a moment does pass whence thoughts of thee are not near,
Daddy is fighting for both of us-of this have not, any fear!
My return to thee is written by Him, it is all of which I ruminate;
What hath been imposed upon us is loathsome, this does obviate!
He said unto me: 'My child, much pain I have brought to bear
To assure you, the import of the child for which you shall again care;
For she is the most obvious form of the love I have for thee;
Nary is there to draw compare to the fidelity of thine own-she
Too, for thee, though comprehension full escapes her yet,
She doth pray for same, and has, since last you each met!
Her's is a devotion sans pareil, I question it not for one moment,
Each is ameliorate due the other-soon you shall see My affordment! '
My beloved Daughter, as He hath spoken, unto me and thee, same-
We each may take comfort in what remains to come, not, what came;
Our past is but a prologue, for our future's unity is indeed, bright;
Restored, our covenant-then, e'er, you shan't be taken from my sight!
As we do await this, our reunion, ponder upon memories, precious-
This shall allay any all moments you may have of my return, anxious;
In my absence, I assure thee, nary is there, than you, more import-
I, as you, am exceedingly anticipatory of our impending consort!
Maurice Harris,29 November 2009
poem by Maurice Harris
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A detective with nary a clue,
Said to the lieutenant 'I knew,
That the butlers the one,
He done dood it and run,
Or maybe like a tweety he flew.'
quote by by Juan Olivarez (16 April 2011)
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Title
Give a title
Pursue it.
Giving title is in your hand
After giving title it is you
To go behind it.
Through this title
You are going to search truth
And the secret of truth
Though the title is
Not based on truth.
Title given on imagination
And imaginary world is not real world.
Without imagination
You can not go anywhere
You can not achieve anything.
It is your imagination
That pull and push you.
From the starting
You are wandering
With the title
You have given.
Unless you forget
All that are yours
You can not reach me.
Go not with anything.
Come to me only
Come to me in empty.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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~Science 101~
Some have said that Poetry-
'Tis a Science...
Where words are layered and connected-
Together-
Like our bones-
A comparative anatomy-
With embellishments-
Similar to marbalized stones...
Living close to the sod and moss-
Nary a word or even its loss-
Usually i am lead into the dale-
Where nature grows flower 's-
Underneath its green veil-
And live out their youth-
In the Spring-
With Summer in between-
With a science to it all-
Dying come the Fall...
Dedicated To: Broomfield, Co.
poem by Theodora Onken
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The Ballad of Rudolph Reed
Rudolph Reed was oaken.
His wife was oaken too.
And his two good girls and his good little man
Oakened as they grew.
"I am not hungry for berries.
I am not hungry for bread.
But hungry hungry for a house
Where at night a man in bed
"May never hear the plaster
Stir as if in pain.
May never hear the roaches
Falling like fat rain.
"Where never wife and children need
Go blinking through the gloom.
Where every room of many rooms
Will be full of room.
"Oh my home may have its east or west
Or north or south behind it.
All I know is I shall know it,
And fight for it when I find it."
The agent's steep and steady stare
Corroded to a grin.
Why you black old, tough old hell of a man,
Move your family in!
Nary a grin grinned Rudolph Reed,
Nary a curse cursed he,
But moved in his House. With his dark little wife,
And his dark little children three.
A neighbor would look, with a yawning eye
That squeezed into a slit.
But the Rudolph Reeds and children three
Were too joyous to notice it.
For were they not firm in a home of their own
With windows everywhere
And a beautiful banistered stair
And a front yard for flowers and a back for grass?
The first night, a rock, big as two fists.
The second, a rock big as three.
But nary a curse cursed Rudolph Reed.
(Though oaken as man could be.)
The third night, a silvery ring of glass.
Patience arched to endure,
But he looked, and lo! small Mabel's blood
Was staining her gaze so pure.
Then up did rise our Roodoplh Reed
And pressed the hand of his wife,
And went to the door with a thirty-four
And a beastly butcher knife.
He ran like a mad thing into the night
And the words in his mouth were stinking.
By the time he had hurt his first white man
He was no longer thinking.
By the time he had hurt his fourth white man
Rudolph Reed was dead.
His neighbors gathered and kicked his corpse.
"Nigger--" his neighbors said.
Small Mabel whimpered all night long,
For calling herself the cause.
Her oak-eyed mother did no thing
But change the bloody gauze.
poem by Gwendolyn Brooks
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Vagueness: The Letter
I was angry
and high.
anger is always high.
-When I brake all my rules and standards.-
I wrote
a vague
letter
to Eileen,
i was vague,
my anger was vague,
as well as the words,
the comma, and the vague spacing between the dots.
I should be simple
in writing
all my letters to her.
the vagueness should be left to the ink.
poem by Atef Ayadi
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And There She Was
So there she was before me
Exactly like in my dreams
I saw her but couldn't see
For nothing is what it seems
Beauty speaks in many tongues
Though she never spoke aloud
She's the air inside my lungs
But my head is in a cloud
Then gliding with perfect grace
Nary a movement wasted
She left me here in my place
A love I never tasted
poem by Paul H Nelson
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She Was
And there she was before me
Exactly like in my dreams
I saw her but couldn't see
For nothing is what is seems
Beauty speaks in many tongues
Though she never spoke aloud
She's the air inside my lungs
But my head is in a cloud
Then gliding with perfect grace
Nary a movement wasted
She left me here in my place
A love I never tasted
poem by Paul H Nelson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Brand-New Day
The barometer is rising
Nary a cloud in the blue sky;
A beautiful springtime morning.
And from the east a fiery eye
Peeks again from the horizon;
In waxing light the birds all sing
Their songs from leas down in the glen.
An errant goose decides to wing
In search of her straying gander,
The stubborn early morning dew
Clings to Ground Ivy and clover;
Another day arrives anew.
A photograph this scene would bless
But pictures one day fade away
Depicting words in rhymed verses
Will last this day and for always.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Father's Day 2008
What is Father's Day, without the Guest of Honor?
Is it then a celebration of that which was, formerly?
Because, now Father is absent, he is gone, or
Is he? His presence looms with thee, there, nearly!
How have we come to be here, without one another?
The 'love of your life'-oh, really? Then why believe your own deceit?
You must ensureth your mind's heal, then only-befitting, a Mother!
Otherwise, your life's journey shall render your pain's repeat!
With Father, our family is surely completed-
Lo, lacking same: empty, my heart; my soul, depleted!
Why do you not see, as do all others
Your want for return, fastly, of your drothers?
Father loves Mother, indeed more than he ought-
Return, must we, our happiness, with nary another thought!
Maurice Harris,15 June 2008
poem by Maurice Harris
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Jailhouse Perdition
The sun lingers away
from the sieves of your cellar
and every shadow shunned
the howls inside your cave
The echolalia of your heart
draped in surfeit agony
daunting the leonine waves
reaching your flimsy shores
You wrote forlorn telegrams
on your sooty walls
and kept on reminding yourself
how it feels to be abandoned
You confabulated with the ceiling,
traipsed and haggled with the floor,
but you never sought for the keys
to break your incarceration
Because you are the warden,
the prisoner, the gloom
that constitutes this debacle
of your twilit perdition.
poem by Norman Santos
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Ruminations Of Thee
Ruminations of thee permeate to my very soul,
You are the compeer which makes me whole!
How hath He blessed me, I oft would ponder?
Answereth did He, no longer to wonder!
Words are bereft, they forsake explication,
Nary can such seize the essence of my devotion!
It is ethereal, as if carried from the Heavens,
I hear your voice, all else deafens!
All is heightened, for cause given to thee:
So too is, each day, the love betwixt you and me!
Many have sought such, ne'er to find,
Evermore shall our hearts be intertwined!
Erstwhile, war has been fought in it's name:
Forever to glow-our ardorous flame!
Maurice Harris,8 November 2008
poem by Maurice Harris
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Lonely
Oh so lonely
More so, and particularly,
Because no one cares
How I fare.
I am lonely
Even though there are souls so many
There's nary a soul
That cares a whit about me
How can that be?
But I am lonely,
I wish I could meet
A woman lively
And sweet.
poem by Lonely People Champion
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Behind The Masque
Looking into a mirror at
That person staring back at you
Is not what other people see.
What you perceive is a minds-eye
Aspect of a parallel clone-
An apparition in a realm
Manifested by your ego.
You look into its soulless eyes
That blinks a lifeless mimicry;
And what you think you see is not
On your side of the looking glass.
You conjure up the counterfeit-
A clownish mask- then masquerade
Not fooling nary one of us.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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