Shards of Oblivion
Haplessly wafting through the pavements
Where the sun sprawled in supercilious entanglement
The mirage somersaulted in a carousal
Whilst my iron eyes thawed in arousal
And there in the vacuous silence of the horizon
Nonchalant of the maelstrom, I exhibited a forlorn
Writer with the garish polar lights as my pen
And the pavement my escritoire, too sullen,
And the paper is a blotted film upon my head
And the story I lace is from a nylon thread
That I found in the jagged fragments of my desk
Whilst mice and men scampered on the fractions and hex
My penmanship in a sodden rapture
I gnashed upon the panging stature
Of myself as I tried to press and swallow
The shards of oblivion, staining my paper with peccadillo
Though, no blood will seep out from my frenzied rivers
The gargoyles will snigger upon the driftwood that I am and slaver
In this farcical poetry effacing incarnation
Devouring the sanguine glowing bastion
Yet I endure, impassioned and despondently
Combing and palming the shards blithely
And gorge upon its piercing kisses
And the blasé of the looming chess pieces.
poem by Norman Santos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Tropical Recollection
The crashing of the glass
Shards of memory scattered throughout
Whilst ominous gusts of terror besiege,
Convincing the upends have come
Bellowing into disabled blue eyes,
Blurred and blinded through battles of time
The dark deep dread creeps in
Shards of memory scattered throughout
Thoughts cloud in withdrawal
A relinquishing storm of all form, all peril
Void as a dream, void of sanity
Shards of memory scattered throughout
Shards of the Cloud
The rumbling boom, vibrates all that is near the ribs,
The power of a storm, embarking over the land,
Drifting overhead eyes spot it coming, a cloud,
Dark, gloomy mists of crashing waves rise as a tide over the sky,
The arrival shades the earth with its somber tone,
Reaching to tell us what it has,
Its power,
We watch in awe as it overwhelms,
A flash beats,
Everything is flooded with the light,
Nothing left untouched by the white covering,
Then gone;
Following with the repetition of another Boom,
And the cloud falls in pieces, shattered,
The shards clash on the ground,
I walk beyond the frame of the door,
The shards prance on my head,
Bouncing as their kin at my feet,
I look to the covered firmament,
Upon my face the shards dribble and pounce,
I smile,
With correlation to my lips, my arms rise,
Fingers open,
As the shards of the shattered cloud fall,
They wet, everything and all,
This is the power of a cloud,
This is why it’s so proud,
Nothing from it can hide,
It is power,
It is water,
It is shards of clouds,
Breathing bliss into my life.
poem by Keel Lincoln
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Forlorn Riddles
On a piece of brown paper
The wild zinnia splattered
Among the porcelains and silvers
Like an ankle splintered
Of a once feral danseuse
Now embezzled by age
With the sun conquering west
The paper befallen a cage
Where the dribbled ink blots
Dangled like a hapless bait
And the sun punctures in a blotch
Eroding the scar with the faith
And the myths and the spellbound
That has never been found
On a desiccated ink blot
A grotesque silhouette incarnated
Reeking with a sanguinary plot
Of carnage that had sculpted
The stature a gilded sphinx's repose
The head vanished and garroted
Stolen by the vulpine onyx crows
For the chances are unpremeditated
It moored and towed and versified
Inebriated by the undulating patios
Groveling to be rectified
The sage's head rolled with peccadilloes
Of cursive scripts on a thread
Another poem left unsaid
On a hollow poetry
From the concluding drops of life
Rises an eccentric cypress tree
Envisaging the abeyance of strife
With the lacquer barks unsullied
And the bristly leaves gone
A farcical scene of the sapid
Frame of filth under the sun
The wind winnows the emaciated
Boughs and it stirred a tantrum
Darting trough the firmament's spread
Extemporizing in a hum
An enameled juvenile demise
Perched from where the moon pries
On a putrefying cypress tree
Entangles a swollen moon
Crooning with the luminaries
The northeastern winds swoon
In a violent gust of colossus deluge
That stirred the maladroit clock
To gyrate more raucously and fiddle
To send rapids in the perennial rock
Of Luna's frail cradle
Her phosphorescence wobbled
Staggering to be consoled
And the night had toppled
A spectator felt culpable
As she fell on the slithering pebbles
On a shattered Luna
The lights flickered in serrations
Rolling with the aurora
And slivering in the incisions
Of my palette's oppressed hue,
I descried a lily on the fragments
With leaves of laurel in lieu
Of the rowdy cabaret's redolent
Scent that always prevail to cajole
Yet, I plucked it from the concrete,
Threw it in a boiling casserole
And drank the venomous solute
Until there was nonentity
But a riddle on a poetry
On a labyrinthine verse
Was a fraction of brown paper
Banished to Stygian, the effect: adverse,
An origami bloomed in the river
While the looming trees watched
And my poetry skewed piercing
Deep in the burls of their latch
But they are benumbed and stifling
With apathy and nonchalance
And in that moment, the poem was gone
And you don't even lift a muscle in askance
Perhaps, to reckon the lyrics done
And it will never be found
Hands down, you have won
poem by Norman Santos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Saddest Photographs I: Library Picture
I can picture you
In the quietude of the library
Sauntering past the hulking shelves
With the grace and levity of a gypsy
And vague in the opalescent visage
Though you are scarcely touched
By the cascading fluorescent lights
Snooping through the grave of books
That conceals the picturesque vision
Of the dexterous infection of a smile
Whilst your nimble hands graze
The sleeping books on the case
And stir the stationary dusts
Into rippling mystical shards
Until you make your choice
And haul out your book supplely
Like picking up a wild tulip
Whilst I muse upon the scene
Inside a forlorn alley ensconced
In a book left ajar in my palms
Similar to the tulip that you hold
Near the realms of your crystal heart.
poem by Norman Santos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Piece Just Under The Top Right Corner
I was 'Shattered' I'm the mirror
There's broken pieces everywhere
I'm just shards now
I hold onto these shards with my hand and grip them tightly
I want to re-make myself But I won't use the ugly shards I'll grip them tighter
Let them sink into my skin
The problem
Is the paradox of me picking up myself while I'm broken
It just doesn't work
But then You came
But then You came and asked me to let go of the pieces
For all to see
The ugliness hidden deep inside of me
I'd never have let go for anyone but You
You'd offered me this chance many times too
But for some reason this time I just let go
Instead of trying to make myself into something I just let go and let You
And now my broken shards we're the pieces just under the top
The top right corner
We're.... I'm whole, and my once-makeshift shard
Has been made by the master
Into a part of the masterpiece that is Your kingdom
I'm just a piece but You saw the whole picture since the beginning
Now I'm proud to be there for all to see
But You aren't done with Your work in me
Or in this world
So now my brokenness is a beautiful mosaic of hope
A beautiful mosaic of love
All the broken pieces
Make a picture of something like a cross
To remind us that sin has no power
The sting of death is gone
So I'm just under the top right corner
But I need to gather some more pieces to make the corner
Not that it is I but You, my Lord
It's time to go out and show the world that brokenness
Brokenness healed through God's power
That's beautiful
poem by David Knox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Upon this paper my life is written
Upon this paper my life is written,
a tree doubled over in pain.
The red ink flows over the skin,
full stops and commas are hair and stars:
eyes of sea left on ships,
destroyed houses, rusting girders.
This paper is as black as the storm,
destroyed villages where there is no fiesta.
This paper burns as reason does,
lightning in the sky flashes in its millions.
This paper is a sky where there is no God,
this paper is alone…
this paper does not fly…
this paper… it is I.
poem by Menotti Lerro from The Poetry of Menotti Lerro (2011), translated by Andrew Mangham, Maria Rosaria La Marca
Submitted by anonym
Vote! | Copy!
Freedom Bound
Beneath my fingers I feel the smooth silky paper.
Somewhere within my head, a poem’s carefully strung.
Then one will be committed to join with the other,
When it has been carefully sprung.
Beneath my fingers I see the strong tough paper.
Somewhere within my head a poem’s shining through.
Then one will be exhibited, joined with the other,
Where they will be seen, shining new.
Beneath my fingers I hear the crisp firm paper.
Somewhere within my head a poem’s freedom bound.
When one will be entrusted to join with the other,
Then freedom will at last be found.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Porcelain Heart
Though it was long ago, my heart still aches as though it just happened
That day when my heart of porcealian was shattered
It was dropped from a third story floor and fell to the ground
Breaking into a million tiny pieces
Over time the shards were gathered together
I glued them back together, and I thought I was okay
Then you came into my life, and I felt something
Something I hadn't felt in so long
It was an emotion I thought I'd lost
Even though we're just friends, I wonder
At night as I lay in my bed and the moon shines ih through my window
If we moved past being friends, I wonder
If I would be able to reciprocate any type of loving emotion you gave to me
I don't know if I could, because as I glued those shards together
I also built up a brick wall around my heart as well
So that I would never have to feel that shattering again
So that I would never have to see those shards of my heart lying on the ground again
A porcelain heart can only by put together so many times
And I don't know if mine can be put back together more than once
poem by Sae Amakura
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Like Pigeons
By the fountain of looming glory
Where the sun kissed the perching water
And the wind opt scents of potpourri
Amidst, winged pebbles futilely spatter
Like frenzied gargoyles draped in downy.
Stationary pigeons of gray and white
Gyrating tally of ubiquitous palpable flock
Nonchalant of the growing breadth of plight;
Blasé of the weary ticks of a spiraling clock:
Brethren of idiosyncratic ignorance in flight
Beseeching dour and muffled coos
Replete with the pathetic volition
Winged harlequins in parks and flues
Anguish beneath the wings of abomination
Fly like bullets! Fly through the fringe of blue!
Leave, and grow wings that can fluster
In the beaming light it shall project
Greens and blues and all it can muster
The innuendo no one can ever reject
The coup of freedom that you have garnered.
poem by Norman Santos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
If You Remembered The Cherries
In these meanders, where the crippled skies
Cannot judge the crowd of errs and faults
Lost in the dicey constellations
We traversed the path of the water
And we chase the gilded corolla of the sun
Like the bards that sang of vertigo
The pathos advanced with a scintillation
In the semblance of the felled daggers
From the banquet of Olympia
You handed him the plush cherries
And he gobbled all of them
As it smeared the gossamer pallor
In his lifeless face, whilst I was
Illuminated by a untwisted bliss
And days fluttered and squandered
Into the mouth of an abyss
And there upon the shards of poetries
He gave you flight and you soared
Together to the wan gloaming
Whilst my paws grew clammy in the soil
As I muse upon your looming shadows
And picturing the taste of cherries
With a baffled asymmetry
Now left a tale yonder the fire
Never be told to keep the light unmarred
poem by Norman Santos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Glass War
Glass war, glass war, glass war, glass war, it's a glass war
Glass war, glass war, it's a glass war
Glass war, glass war
It's a glass war
Cause you can see right through the poisen
It's a glass war
Cause we all know the activeties
It's a glass war
Cause it's made of smoke and mirrors
It's a glass war
It's a glass war
It's a glass war
Cause only poor men are dyin in the
Gas war
Cause we know why it was started
It's an ass war
Cause the president's an asshole
It's an ass war
It's a glass war
It's a gas war
Cause the starters are all victims of the
Glass war
The slogan men were starters of the
Last war
Now the southern men are starters of the
Glass war
It's a Glass War
It's a Glass war
And the shards are gunna start another glass war
And the shards are gunna start another glass war
And the shards are gunna start another glass war
And the shards are gunna start another glass war
And the shards are gunna start another glass war
It's a glass war
It's a glass war
song performed by by NOFX
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
SAGADA STILLS IN A FLOATING WORLD by Marjorie Evasco
If with images
If with words
I
You
could catch
on photographic film on silk paper
a likeness
of
You
of me
in Sagada
I would have
You would
have
to sit a thousand years
with master of austere
Light
Measure
Masferré Shikibu
To learn the process
of rendering of
staining
Silence
Sound
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet XIII: Letters and Lines
To the Shadow
Letters and lines we see are soon defac'd,
Metals do waste and fret with canker's rust,
The diamond shall once consume to dust,
And freshest colors with foul stains disgrac'd;
Paper and ink can paint but naked words,
To write with blood of force offends the sight;
And if with tears I find them all too light,
And sighs and signs a silly hope affotds,
O sweetest shadow, how thou serv'st my turn,
Which still shalt be, as long as there is sun,
Nor, whilst the world is, never shalt be done,
Whilst moon shall shine or any fire shall burn;
That everything whence shadow doth proceed
May in my shadow my love's story read.
poem by Michael Drayton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Maria's Lullaby
An extract from a poem written for my grandchildren to Brahms Lullaby
Sleep; little mice sleep
Mother will watch over you
Shut your eyes and don't peek
Tomorrow the skies will be blue
Sleep; little mice sleep.
Sleep; little mice sleep
No harm will come whilst I am here
The sun has gone down by the peak
When the day dawns it will appear
Sleep; little mice sleep.
Sleep; little mice sleep
Your father is watching the house
That no owl or cat dares to seek
Harm to creatures or mouse
Sleep; little mice sleep.
Sleep; little mice sleep
Tomorrow you run and play
Now is not time to speak
When you awake a new day
Sleep; little mice sleep.
Sleep; little mice sleep
Rest now for your own sake
Shut your eyes now be asleep
I will be here when you awake
Sleep; little mice sleep.
poem by Thomas Golding
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Paper And Iron
Paper, iron, won't buy eden
Working for paper and for iron
Work for the right to keep my tie on
Working for paper and for iron
Work for the unicorn and lion
I pray the kids aren't starving
No chicken for the sunday carving
I'll stay for one more farthing
I take home my notes and coins every week
I'm told i'm worth much more
But the church says turn the other cheek
The other cheek
Paper, iron, won't buy eden.
I know the family needs me
Can't moan, the factory feeds me
Won't bite the hand that bleeds me
I take home my notes and coins every week
I'll inherit the earth i'm told
But the church says to remain this meek
Remain this meek
I'm still a proud man.
Won't show anybody else my wage
A blend in the crowd man
Is this anybody's golden age
Is this anybody's golden age
Is this anybody's golden age
Or am i dreaming of a golden cage
La la lo it's paper
La la lo it's iron
La la lo just paper
La la lo just iron
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Paper And Pen
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Can’t think of anything to say today
Can’t think of anything to do
Can’t think of anything to play today
Minds gone blank
Leaving me here, just sitting here
Listening to my hair grow
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
And I look towards you
For an inspiration or a word or two
I try but I find
Every road only leads me back to these lines
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Piano, guitar
I try but don't get very far
Paper and pen
Piano, guitar
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Copyright Colin Coplin 1985 / 2010
poem by Colin Coplin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ode to Being Five (Children)
I made a paper Valentine
all red and edged with lace.
And on my paper Valentine,
I drew a pretty face.
I painted on two big blue eyes
and then a great big grin
and knew it wouldn't be complete
without a dimpled chin.
I love you, paper valentine,
and just between us two,
I hope someday when I grow up
I'll look as sweet as you.
Leave Them Behind
Weary, torn, shattered man
Bare feet upon burning sand
Broken shards in his hand
Oh thou sad forlorn soldier
What doth make thee falter
For thou could be a great warrior
What hast it's tenacious hold on thee
Dragging thee into the abyss
Where found, thou wilt never be
What is it that has torn thee so
That now tortured you go
And walk in the mire below
Are those shards you hold
So precious and old
That thou must treat them like gold?
they once were something beautiful
But now are smashed apart
Dreams, goals, relationships, and hearts
Al of them broken, bringing stormy skies
The glory and beauty of the highs
Now lost in haunted memories
They consume you inside, what if
This is how i chose to live
What if i did this, what if?
They cut deep inside your heart
They slowly tear you apart
They make you less than thou art
You cannot change the past but you can change now
Will you stand strong or will you bow?
if you think you can live in the past, please tell me how
But until then, i start each day new again
To be a worthy servant, to be a better friend.
To keep chasing dreams right until my end
This world i'm in will never perfect be
So while down here, i'll never be a perfect me
But God i'll try to perfect me.
To be more like Jesus, to live how i am to live
To love like him, to forgive
To learn, to help, to give
These broken jars you hold
These hideous scars of old
Throw away, fortune favors the bold
These broken shards cut your palms
They cause you to sing desolate psalms
They bring naught but harm
Jars are just made of clay
If they Fall and break, throw the remains away
Make another to stay
Some day you'll find a treasure
One which will hold in all weather
Something beyond measure
So open your clenched bleeding hands
dropp the shattered pieces on the sand
Lift up your head, thou weary man
Leave those pieces behind
Cause there's something better to find
Leave the broken pieces behind
There's something better to find....
poem by Joses Tirtabudi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Paper & Iron
Paper, iron, wont buy eden
Working for paper and for iron
Work for the right to keep my tie on
Working for paper and for iron
Work for the unicorn and lion
I pray the kids arent starving
No chicken for the sunday carving
Ill stay for one more farthing
I take home my notes and coins every week
Im told Im worth much more
But the church says turn the other cheek
The other cheek
Paper, iron, wont buy eden.
I know the family needs me
Cant moan, the factory feeds me
Wont bite the hand that bleeds me
I take home my notes and coins every week
Ill inherit the earth Im told
But the church says to remain this meek
Remain this meek
Im still a proud man.
Wont show anybody else my wage
A blend in the crowd man
Is this anybodys golden age
Is this anybodys golden age
Is this anybodys golden age
Or am I dreaming of a golden cage
La la lo its paper
La la lo its iron
La la lo just paper
La la lo just iron
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I Sit At My Desk Alone
I sit at my desk alone
as I did on many Sunday
afternoons when you came
back to me,
your arms aching for me,
though they smelled
of other women
and your sweet head bowed
for me to rub
and your heart bursting
with things to tell me,
and your hair
and your eyes
wild.
We would embrace
on the carpet
and leave
the imprint of our bodies
on the floor.
My back is still sore
where you pressed me
into the rug,
a sweet soreness I would never
lose.
I think of you always
on Sunday afternoons,
and I try to conjure you
with these words
as if you might
come back to me
at twilight
but you are never coming back
never.
The truth is
you no longer exist.
Oh you walk the world
sturdily enough:
one foot in front
of the other.
But the lover you were,
the tender shoot
springing within me,
trusting me with your dreams,
has hardened
into fear and cynicism.
Betrayal does that
betrays the betrayer.
I want to hate you
and I cannot.
But I cannot
love you either.
It is our old love
I love,
as one loves
certain images
from childhood
shards
shining in
the street
in the shit.
Shards of light
in the darkness.
poem by Erica Jong
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!