En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Sentinel

I plucked the brambles
Of the turnpike gates
And stashed them somewhere
Impermeable, deeper
Than any vision
Can ever scamper
And every truancy,
Every missed targets,
Every hapless sighs;
Compensating the ulcer
Of the dying times
Will taut the corona
Swathing my treacherous
Barricades and boring
A myriad of openings
With the grandiose of
A portmanteaux
Where vim would
Seep out eagerly
Rolling a red carpet
For the Trojan Horse's entrée
To my sentinel, my graveyard.

poem by Norman Santos
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I'm Boring

I like you and we get along great.
Like a little bit of pepper with salt for taste.
And I don't want you thinking I'm snooping just to peek,
But I got to use this minute quick to make sure this is it.
I'm boring,
Deeper into you I feel it needed.
I'm boring,
'Cause of possibilities I see.
I'm boring...
Way beyond the meeting of the greeting,
'Cause I see right now you are meant for me.

I'm boring,
Deeper into you I feel it needed.
I'm boring,
'Cause of possibilities I see.
I'm boring...
Way beyond the meeting of the greeting,
'Cause I see right now you are meant for me.

Deeper,
Are the questions of you that I ask.
Deeper,
Are your answers given back to me.
And deeper,
Into ourselves we get...
And this deepness makes us happy.

Deeper,
Are the questions of you that I ask.
Deeper,
Are your answers given back to me.
And deeper,
Into ourselves we get...
And this deepness makes us happy.

I'm boring,
Deeper into you I feel it needed.
I'm boring,
'Cause of possibilities I see.
I'm boring...
Way beyond the meeting of the greeting,
'Cause I see right now you are meant for me.

I like you and we get along great.
Like a little bit of pepper with salt for taste.

Deeper,
Are the questions of you that I ask.
Deeper,
Are your answers given back to me.
And deeper,
Into ourselves we get...
And this deepness makes us happy.

I'm boring,
Deeper into you I feel it needed.
I'm boring,
'Cause of possibilities I see.
I'm boring...
Way beyond the meeting of the greeting,
'Cause I see right now you are meant for me.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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
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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
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BBC NEWS (AN internal reflection)

THERE will be wars in this world,
many lies like masks on the faces of diplomacy
agenda are hidden like
cockroaches in those dirty cabinets
what they say on TV
mislead everyone
guffaw
the terrorists wear suits
silk tuxedos
armed with international resolutions
in effect
destroying the right of each nation
to self-determination
freedoms smashed like glasses and plates
after a toast and
party

WHATEVER, the lies are hard to figure out
the experts know how to package them well
like statutes of David
like the Trojan Horse

THERE are more victims
Triumphant less
Exploiters myriad
There are excuses on the death of innocent children
and strangled women and silenced men
of this World
The collateral damages are buried
underneath those shattered facade of mosques
and markets

The gates are interfered upon
AT night the moon bleeds blood
The air at dawn sighs
A morning is broken again
People have no choice like native now
Rejoicing over a new master

The frogs has not started yet
To worry about their numbers
The greedy white Heron eyes
Its next prey.....

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Goal Of Poetry

it is simply to reach
out to people
with our verbal hands
these mental arms
and make them
look

deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
d eeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeperdeeper
deeper
deeper
deeper
deeper

too, within
themselves

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Teacher

A trojan horse with the force of thunder
And a lightening mind,
In whom each finds a new world
Unfurled in mystery, intrigue ... Fatigue.
A myriad of labors have sharpened that saber
For an unending war of wits,
As a teacher tacks bits of facts
In awaiting funnels.
Some inverted; others converted.

poem by Gregory Huyette
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Over And Done

WE might have held back from Love's draught divine
For many a wistful sad-and-happy day,
Tasting the voluntary sweet delay
Of lips that at the cup's edge touch the wine,
Yet will not drink, knowing that when the fine
Eagerly tasted thirst grows pain, they may
Drink deep. We might have missed Love's only way,
And thou and I been never mine and thine.

Instead, we sprang straight to the hidden shrine,
Nor lingered in the temple's outer part;
We plucked our rose to die upon our heart,
Nor left it on its tree to slowly pine:
It dies more quickly, for our heart is hot;
But, oh, if we had seen, yet plucked it not!

poem by Edith Nesbit
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Gates Of Babylon

Look away from the sea
I can take you anywhere
Spend a vision with me
A chase with the wind
Move closer to me
I can make you anyone
I think youre ready to see
The gates to babylon
The power of what has been before
Rises to trap you within
A magic carpet ride a genie maybe more
A city of heavenly sin
Sleep with the devil and then you must pay
Sleep with the devil, the devil will take you away
Oh gates of babylon
You can see but youre blind
Someone turned the sun around
But you can see in your mind
The gates of babylon
Youre riding the endless caravan
Bonded and sold as a slave
A saber dance removing all the veils
Getting as good as you gave
A saber dance removing all the veils
Getting as good as you gave
Sleep with the devil and then you must pay
Sleep with the devil, the devil will take you away
Look away from the sea
I can take you anywhere
Spend a vision with me
A chase with the wind
Move closer to me
I can make you anyone
I think youre ready to see
The gates of babylon
The power of what has been before
Rises to trap you within
A magic carpet ride a genie maybe more
A city of heavenly sin
Sleep with the devil and then you must pay
Sleep with the devil, the devil will take you away
Black gates of babylon
The devil is me
And Im holding the key
To the gates of sweet hell
Babylon

song performed by by Rainbow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am The Highway

Pearls that swim the rift of me
Long and weary my road has been
I was lost in the cities
Alone in the hills
No sorrow I feel
For anything I feel yea
I am not your rolling wheels
I am a highway
I am not your carpet ride
I am the sky
Friends and liars
Dont wait for me
Cause Ill get on
All by myself
Put millions of miles
Under my heels
And still too close to you
I feel
I am not your rolling wheels
I am the highway
I am not your carpet ride
I am the sky
I am not your blowing wind
I am the sky here
I am not your automn moon
I am the night
The night
I am not your rolling wheels
I am the highway
I am not your carpet rag
I am the sky
I am not your blowing wind
I am the lightining
I am not your automon
I am the night

song performed by by Audioslave
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thanks To The Rolling Sea

(words & music by batchelor - roberts)
Thanks to the rolling, rolling, rolling, thanks to the rolling sea
Thanks to the rolling, rolling, rolling, thanks to the rolling sea
Fish on the table and fish on the fire, fried fish hanging on the tree
Everything here that your heart desires, thanks to the rolling sea
Thanks to the rolling sea
Living is good and living is fine, were happy as can be
We owe all this to the salty brine, thanks to the rolling sea
Thanks to the rolling sea
We work all day but our hearts are gay, and while we work we sing
The mighty sea is good to us and weve got everything
Abalone steaks and tuna fish cakes, taste so heavenly
We know who we owe it to, thanks to the rolling sea
Thanks to the rolling, rolling, rolling, thanks to the rolling sea
Thanks to the rolling, rolling, rolling, thanks to the rolling sea
Thanks to the rolling, rolling, rolling, thanks to the rolling sea
Thanks to the rolling, rolling, rolling, thanks to the rolling sea

song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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And The Money Kept Rolling In (And Out)

Che: And the money kept rolling in from every side

Eva's pretty hands reached out and they reached wide
Now you may feel it should have been a voluntary cause
But that's not the point my friends
When the money keeps rolling in you don't ask how
Think of all the people guaranteed a good time now
Eva's called the hungry to her open up the doors
Never been a fund like the Foundation Eva Peron

Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling on in rolling on in rolling on in rolling on in on in

Would you like to try a college education
Own your landlord's house take the family on vacation
Eva and her blessed fund can make your dreams come true
Here's all you have to do my friends
Write your name and your dream on a card or a pad or a ticket
Throw it high into the air and should our lady pick it
She will change your way of life for a week or even two
Name me anyone who cares as much as Eva Peron

Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling on out rolling on out rolling on out rolling on out on out

And the money kept rolling out in all directions
To the poor to the weak to the destitute of all complexions
Now cynics claim a little of the cash has gone astray
But that's not the point my friends
When the money keeps rolling out you don't keep books
You can tell you've done well by the happy grateful looks
Accountants only slow things down figures get in the way
Never been a lady loved as much as Eva Peron

Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling on out rolling on out rolling on out rolling on out on out

Eva

When the money keeps rolling out you don't keep books
You can tell you've done well by the happy grateful looks
Accountants only slow things down figures get in the way
Never been a lady loved as much as Eva Peron

Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling on out rolling on out rolling on out rolling on out on out

song performed by by Madonna from Evita Soundtrack (Part 2)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am Never The Best In Anything

I AM NEVER THE BEST IN ANYTHING

I am never the best in anything
Sometimes I am second best
Often I am just mediocre.

A second son
I am never more than second
In all I do.

As I write this poem
I think of many
More rich in metaphor
More wise in complex rhyme
More dazzling in vocabulary
Deeper in Beauty and Meaning
Than me.

Second best, mediocre
Maybe worse
The poet of endless literal complaints
About his own poetry.

Boring boring boring
Second best
Second rate
Not great.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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Rolling On Meanders

Rolling Chikhwawa a basket of water
Down the course to the plain
Stood still and threw a steam boat in water
Rolling on meanders slovenly by gears drain
Breaks, a bucket of them

Rolling and boring on tires
To and fro in white and black
In records absorbing and dissolving
Rolling and rolling, zigzag down fight
Zigzag up and groaning

Thus it spoiled
And grabbed the plain
And summit again in lights

poem by Paul Mwenelupembe
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Drowning the Sea

My walls shudder and the persiennes rustled
Whispering secrets to each other
And tingling my curiosity
To open the portmanteaux
Where I have stashed the tides
With surges I cannot defeat
But I would not let myself deplete
Into the seductions of the ocean
And her airborne secrets

Your tides, they were pristine and feral
And I had pleasured myself
From the delusive consoles
Catching it in my palms
Like a paramour's hand
In spite of the saltiness of your fingers
That would detour from my frantic clasp
Filleting my hopes, every time
Until I gladly drown with all that I have
In your sympathy
That I have taken erroneously
Everything sank

I am dead-beaten and sea-sick
With the drifting consoles
Of the voracious sea
Because at these times
Where the gears of the clock collapses
And does not seize each other
I am drawn to reckon
And probe for honesty
In the vertigo of surrender
And I grew sterner by the helm
Taking the mistral gale
As an endless beating
With the mistral blades
Of different shades

Like tonight, for instance
The cordial yuletide hue
Is ballasted by my veracity
As another vacant holiday
In a vacant banquet
Of vacant platters
Indeed, this is how I grew sterner;
Surging the breaking waves
With a sea-sick stomach

An overwhelming surf
Over the slopes of skepticism
Until the undulation settles
And the sea drowns
Into a numbed state and
The waves and the gusts
Would be driven back to the shore
And I shall attend
The pangs of a vacant holiday
And that, I do prefer,
For it is not inflicted
By my own flimsy hands
And I would not be shaken
By the whispers and the rustles
Inside the bolted portmanteaux.

poem by Norman Santos
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The Superfluity of Her Petals

In the dark of the pitch black velvet
Of the town's fluttering skies, she;
A rose, with quaint petals of solitary
Cries and somber interpolations
Scars the escritoire that could never
Bleed for her marred verve and demise
Saliently in silence she stirred the ripples
Of quietude and eviscerated the scorches
Perched upon her poreless skin

In the heraldry of emollient light orbs
Dangling in asunder lampposts parceling
The slumbering hostile doors and windows
Creating latticing shadows to eagerly dispose
The svelte prism of pristine strangeness
Austerely ensconced in this odorless town
Where motes plummet down eagerly
Whetting the lackluster sheen of her
Mystical redolence of truancy

Like an arachnid she spun her home,
Her grave, her trap, inside her bones
Like an arachnid she swings rooftops
With a silver thread in the semblance
Of a lynch and of an eloquent lace
To bind the mistral spell in the haze;
Her laces creates a psychedelic marquetry
That only few people can grasp and see
Those who danced with the shadows,
Those who pounced with the fall,
Those who quaffed the tea and spew
The pseudo-saccharine innuendo,
Those who plucked the thorns
Crawling the ladders of your hue,
Are here with me for you.

poem by Norman Santos
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Shadow Dance

The shadows danced with the hazy smoke
Draped in the malodorous tobacco scent
Rippling the pallid beckon of the summer noon

The shadows danced and lightly rouse
Insurmountable motions of the colossus sea
And lingered with the auspicious truancy

The shadows danced with the svelte strokes
In the maladroit light-flushed and fueled-gush
Whining seep of a violent breath of life

The shadows danced with phantom swords
Scintillating sparks to flicker within the darkness
Slumbering in the corners of somnolent eyes

The shadows danced in the reveling noise
Where the sun never quells the thirsty rose
And never pours for the barren host

The shadows danced and tilted inertia
To greedily gather the myriad of porcelain jars
Brimming with dusts and scripts and stars

The shadows danced and I was enthused
To sway the steely legs gnarled in the silence
Of calculating the shadows rhythmic palpitations

poem by Norman Santos
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Shoot The Moon

The summer days are gone too soon
You shoot the moon
And miss completely
And now you're left to face the gloom
The empty room that once smelled sweetly
Of all the flowers you plucked if only
You knew the reason
Why you had to each be lonely
Was it just the season?

Now the fall is here again
You can't begin to give in
It's all over

When the snows come rolling through
You're rolling too with some new lover
Will you think of times you've told me
That you knew the reason
Why we had to each be lonely
It was just the season

song performed by by Norah Jones from Come Away With Me
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am A Highway

Pearls and swine bereft of me
Long and weary my road has been
I was lost in the cities
Alone in the hills
No sorrow or pity for leaving I feel
(chorus)
I am not your rolling wheels
I am the highway
I am not your carpet ride
I am the sky
Friends ans liars don't wait for me
I'll get on all by myself
I put millions of miles
Under my heels
And still too close to you
I feel
(chorus)
I am not your rolling wheels
I am the highway
I am not your carpet ride
I am the sky
I am not your blowing wind
I am the lightning
I am not your autumn moon
I am the night

song performed by by Audioslave
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Chronicles of A New Day part 4 Looking Back, and Seeing the Present Has Changed

I look back at my old feelings
frayed memories, scarred, burnt and black
as day after day passies by
I obessess over the past
I try to find a part that would last
I try!
and try i look back deeper and deeper i am very deep in now deeper
very deep i am lost in thought, my consciousness, frayed, and memories seep
out and seem to drain away
not here to stay not even for another day
the Longer i look back the more the present passes me by
the world changes, moves, and hates without me or at me.

poem by David Knox
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Boring Lonely Day

What to do
On a boring lonely day?
How to have something to do
To keep the blues away?

I have got my papers sorted
And I am faced with a lonely boring day.
I cleaned my home yesterday.
From having a good and fun day,
I am thwarted.

The songs only make me sadder
I am having a boring lonely day.
All my games bore me now
Even when I win, it is a lonely boring day.

Having nothing to do
Makes for a boring lonely day.
And no one to do nothing with
That's the cause of the lonely boring day.

Now that I know the cause
Of my lonely boring days,
I can do something without pause
To cure my boring lonely days.

poem by Lonely People Champion
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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