Burning Candle
Pituitary reeks of wrinkles
whose advent adverse
as a bad breeze
blows at your bare brilliance.
Adrenaline billows hands
around your virile yellow,
bright in the teeth of bad breeze
as a grain animate in humus.
Till wrinkles wrap hands
in shrouds of flabby folds,
bare your fragile flame
to bad breezes brutal breath
And out your yellow flame will go
in time with breeze's harsh triumph
for burning candles melt their wax
as scribbling ballpoints sap their ink.
poem by Oluchukwu Ifechukwu
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Related quotes
Blanche
Breeze! brisk breeze! that movest with the morn!
Breeze! lithe breeze! that creepest through the corn!
Breeze! O breeze! that fannest the forlorn!
Oh linger by the lattice of sweet Blanche of mine!
Breeze! coy breeze! that loiterest for noon!
Breeze! true breeze! that hast a tryst with June!
Breeze! kind breeze! I beg of thee a boon!
Oh peep in through the lattice of poor Blanche of mine!
Breeze! fleet breeze! that goest with the day!
Breeze! dear breeze! that hastenest away!
Breeze! breeze! breeze! I beg of thee to stay,
And breathe upon the pillow of pale Blanche of mine!
Breeze! night-breeze! that wailest on the wold!
Breeze! lost breeze! that wanderest in the cold!
Breeze! dread breeze! oh flit not by the mould
Which shelters what is left me of lost Blanche of mine!
poem by Alfred Austin
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Are our brains wrinkled?
Wrinkles are the measurement,
to show the life's management,
some are very near and deep,
and the rest long and steep.
Wrinkles are the asset,
that get through the experience,
not all those experienced,
never have such twinkles.
The wrinkles which can not be seen,
hidden inside the hard shell,
More the wrinkles formation,
More the knowledge dwell.
Let us see who has more fold.
Einstein or a research assistant,
people with more folds may not know it,
people with lesser folds strive to get it.
Do not let anyone,
to iron out the wrinkles,
with their disillusioned vision.
Let us acquire more in our brains.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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The Needed Breeze
Tenths of thousands may have eyes but cannot see, even from a closer perspective. Many a people may have ears but cannot hear. Some may have noses but cannot smell, hands but cannot feel. Hundreds may have legs but cannot walk a road. Some take a stroll in life because they are inneed of the needed breeze. A breeze which supplies the needed acumen for rapid transformation. A breeze which expects the unexpected. A breeze which rises as much as it falls. A breeze which thinks of the unthinkable. A breeze which turns misfits into assets, fictions into facts and clichés into indelible says. - Are you inneed of the needed breeze? Many may whisper 'yes' but it takes 'courage' to receive the breeze. Rise-Up...
poem by Prince Kenny Osei
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Sweet Evening Breeze
I was loud and a little sad
She was visiting from atlanta, georgia
She had come to spend the summer with her dad
I thought she was very pretty
We would kiss and hold hands
Every night by the football field
Her body was tan
From the afternoons by the public swimming pool
Chorus:
Sweet evening breeze
Blows around my thoughts and memories
As I lie here today
And drink my tea
I can still see
Sweet evening breeze
I saw her in a coffee shop
In a big hotel down in austin, texas
She had cut her long hair off
And replaced it with
Blue eyes of sadness
Still acted like we were kids
And she told me that she had to marry
And she asked me if I did
Still remember
Chorus:
Sweet evening breeze
Blows around my thoughts and memories
As I lie here today
And drink my tea
I can still see
Sweet evening breeze
How redundant the future can be
These days of old are very, very
Ridiculous for me to see
When I think about the real gone stories
And how time holds the winning hand
I can tell by the lines on our faces
And the young cant understand
That they look at me
When they look at themselves
Chorus:
Oh, sweet evening breeze
Blows around my thoughts and memories
As I lie here today
And drink my tea
I can still see
Sweet evening breeze
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Flame
I find myself remembering things I thought I'd forgot
I thought I'd gotten over you but I can see I've not
And seeing you has made me realize how wrong I've been
And the torch I've carried for so long is burning bright again
The flame is burning bright again it just took my seeing you to know
That the flame had not burned out it just had flickered low
Yes I still love you just as much as I ever did before
The flame is burning bright again and I can't fight it anymore
Could it be your seeing me has set your heart on fire
Could it be old memories has filled you with desire
Oh if after all this time you find that you still feel the same
Then come and take my hand and walk with me into the flame
The flame is burning bright again...
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Through A Transparent Tear...
a night of drumming rain
woke up into an unusually
fresh winter morning
of drizzle and tickling breeze
laced by lazy chillness
the languid nerves of the night
looked for some stirring to
help them out of a tempting bed...
a breeze brushing past the sea
a breeze traversing across
the imposing dolphin's nose
a breeze caressing the leaves
buds and flowers even in earthen
pots laden heavy absorbing
the live long passion of the clouds
a breeze filling all that it touched
on the little bit of earth around me
a breeze pervading my little sky
caused me come alive...
how is it possible, i wondered
insulated as i was from the
animate and the inanimate
on the otherside with equal vogour
i looked around my accustomed
emptiness in wonder
trying to find the source
need i tell you
the source revealed itself
as your breath on me?
the heart that came alive
on this winter morning
of drizzle and breeze
shed a tear of longing
even while my body
smiled...
12nov2009
08.05hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Bare Windows
I look at the world
Through bare windows,
And see it all --
Bright sunlight,
Deep shadows,
Birds in flight,
Bare dead trees,
Thick tangled vines
That whisper in the breeze.
Fox hunts the mouse.
Snake slithers by
Shedding his dry skin house.
I look at the world
Through bare windows,
And I love it all.
poem by M. Elizabeth Barrett Doyle
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Turning Leaves
Red, red, red
Right ahead,
Yellow, yellow like the sun,
Through the leaves run,
Orange, orange many trees,
Blowing in the breeze,
A few evergreens,
Many autumn scenes,
Walk along a stream,
Seems as a dream,
Add blue and white,
A bird in flight,
Climb to the top,
Seems the forest never stop,
From the tower view,
Only get a clue,
Sunset indigo and violet,
If only for a bit,
Walk among the leaves,
Feel the fall breeze.
poem by Fritzner Erauda
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The Bright Medusa
She's the daughter of the breeze,
She's the darling of the seas,
And we call her, if you please, the bright _Medu--sa_;
From beneath her bosom bare
To the snakes among her hair
She's a flash o' golden light, the bright _Medu--sa_.
When the ensign dips above
And the guns are all for love,
She's as gentle as a dove, the bright _Medu--sa_;
But when the shot's in rack
And her forestay flies the Jack,
He's a merry man would slight the bright _Medu--sa_.
When she got the word to go
Up to Monte Video,
There she found the river low, the bright _Medu--sa_;
So she tumbled out her guns
And a hundred of her sons,
And she taught the Dons to fight the bright _Medu--sa_.
When the foeman can be found
With the pluck to cross her ground,
First she walks him round and round, the bright _Medu--sa_;
Then she rakes him fore and aft
Till he's just a jolly raft,
And she grabs him like a kite, the bright _Medu--sa_.
She's the daughter of the breeze,
She's the darling of the seas,
And you'll call her, if you please, the bright _Medu--sa_;
For till England's sun be set--
And it's not for setting yet--
She shall bear her name by right, the bright _Medu--sa_.
poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
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Constantly
All day Im walking in a dream
I think about you constantly
Just like an ever flowing stream
Your memory haunts me constantly
Shadows fall and I try to drive you from my mind
So youre no longer near to me
But my heart sees you there with me
Every sunset you share with me
The rain that patterns throu the tree reminds
Me of you constantly
Your name is whispered by the breeze and love birds
Bring your song to me
Just as same as each star keeps burning
In the sky your flame will stay a flame in me
A flame that burns so bright
Not only throu the night
But constantly
Thro we may be_apart
Youre constantly deep in my heart
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Doronicums are Smiling
Standing in a row
and greeting Hello
Doronicums are smiling
With their shiny Yellow.
The green hearty leaves
Encircle all you fellows
Feel so soft, rich and mellow
Rose is a king but you a Stello
Doronicum are smiling
with their shiny Yellow.
Happiness so vivid by your tone
Wisdoms the symbol that glows
Way you move when wind blows
Seems breeze playing Cello
Doronicum are smiling
with their shiny Yellow.
poem by Samima Shah
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There’s a new breeze coming
There is a new breeze coming
It is whispering to my ear
There is a new morning coming
There is a new sun
There is a new breeze coming
It is so so refreshing
Making all my burdens lighter
My heart is not heavy
My thoughts are happier
That this new breeze
Everything has become light
Like the weigthlessness of a butterfly
Fluttering to the melody of
This new soft breeze
There is a new promise
There’s a new breeze coming
There is a new morning
There is a new breeze coming
From my home, sweet home.....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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0004 Lyric 3: Rosefall
O, what is the song this late, late rose is singing?
where will its petals fall, pale orange-yellow rose?
when shall the breeze and the rose cease laughing, dancing,
when will the raindrops bring time, and loss, and tears?
who wrote the song that the rose is singing, singing,
who painted petals on this fleeting rose?
when did the breeze discover dancing, dancing,
with roses that fade and fall in loss and time and tears?
after the rosefall, a colder breeze is blowing,
rose petals lie in drifts upon the ground;
but the breeze remembers, wintering red rose-hips, sowing
the rose’s spring and singing; remembering rose’s sound..
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Do Not Worry
Take your right hand,
Palm facing up,
And line your fingers
With your teeth.
Hold firmly onto the roof of your mouth.
Do the same with your left hand,
But grip your chin.
Move your hands in opposite directions
Until you hear your jaw cracking
Against the pressure
You put yourself through.
Let your face relax
Back into place.
Let your elastic skin
Rubber-band back into the folds
Sagging over the shadows on your face.
Let it cover your wrinkles
And worry lines.
Then, try again.
Try to unfold your head.
Open it like a book.
Expose your throat to the wind
To let it blow the words
You couldn't speak away.
Split your lips at the seams,
So that a smile may spread its way
Across your rigid cheeks.
Do not worry when your skull
Whacks against your back
And ricochets into the air.
Do not worry when your jaw
Slaps and swings at your chest
By the light current of the breeze.
Do not worry when your blood
Spills all over,
Drenching the dirty ground
And the eyes of everyone
As they watch you
Pull yourself apart.
Do not worry.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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Keep The Flame Burning
Standing at the crossroads, were the future meets the past
Oh cant you feel, theres magic in the air
Were noble knights and mighty men, with the power to assay
Faithful and true, let our deeds show you the way
Glorious, we live and we die
Our courage will unite
In our hands we hold the future, carry on
In our hearts, eternally, we keep the flame burning
Hear the sound of roaring thunder, and the sound of raging steel
In the battle of thrust our sprits will reveal
Glorious, wed rather die
With honour than to live with shame
In our hands we hold the future, carry on
In our hearts, eternally, we keep the flame...
Burning deep inside forever, shining on
And in our hearts for all eternity we keep the flame burning
We stay as we are, now the first crusade is won
Let it be written, let it be done
In our hands we hold the future, carry on
In our hearts, eternally, we keep the flame...
Burning deep inside forever, shining on
And in our hearts for all eternity we keep the flame burning
song performed by by Hammerfall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Yellow Ribbon On The Old Oak Tree
who can forget the yellow ribbon
on that old oak tree? tell me.
tomorrow, i shall wear my yellow cap
my yellow shirt, my yellow brief,
my yellow pants.
my jaundiced eye, my golden yellow ring.
tomorrow, in my country, the sky is yellow.
all steps lead to the yellow brick road.
all fruits are ripe and mellow and yellow.
Tomorrow, the country is yellow.
Yellow for integrity, Yellow for change.
Yellow for justice. Yellow for truth.
One day more, and the sun shall rise
Yellow as ever.Yellow forever.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Pinch
i look at my face wrinkles are being drawn like a plow making furroughs
on the ricefield,
wrinkles, i am getting wrinkles,
i look at my arms and i touch it, they are loose now, like some clothes
hanging loosely in my body, emaciated by lack of nutrition,
i look at my hear, i open it like a pettry cash box, i see some scars
and some loose coins for change, i like to break it open and leave
it that way, i am saddened by this
emptiness, this pain,
i stand now in the mirror with a picture on hand of my youth
i look many times finding how
time drenched me with old age, my hands beginning to tremble my
mind forgetting more and more of those memories of my youth,
i refresh myself, i get this clip and pinch myself, i remember
i am still alive, and that is luck enough, a friend of mine just died today,
cardian arrest,
and i am trying to do some little thinking, what if i will be next?
i am finite, i pinch myself some more, some more, some more.....
till i turn blue, till i bleed, who cares?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Bright Colors
bright colors hang
on a horizontal pole
a white bench a red
pail and purple clouds
yellow sand black
sea grass and lavender
shadows umbrellas
on alternate orange and
white and saffron and
yellow green and crimson
blue sea with white foams
escape from a shrinking world
to the sea breeze and solitude
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Wind
The cold breath of sage and kind
has become the light breeze,
touching the heart and soul,
The warm out hale of living things
has become the moderate breeze,
amazing the tired and trees,
The hot breath of lovers,
has become the strong breeze,
cleaned the dirt and rejoice the living.
The scotching breath of infidels,
has become the storm,
immense pleasure and thunderous crying.
The selfish breath of politicians,
has become the hurricane,
uprooted families and wasted nations.
Thank you Dave and Eric, your poems were the inspiration for me to write this poem.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Wrinkles
For Naomi Lazard
Sometimes I can't wait until I look like Nadezhda Mandelstam.
-- Naomi Lazard
My friends are tired.
The ones who are married are tired
of being married.
The ones who are single are tired
of being single.
They look at their wrinkles.
The ones who are single attribute their wrinkles
to being single.
The ones who are married attribute their wrinkles
to being married.
They have very few wrinkles.
Even taken together,
they have very few wrinkles.
But I cannot persuade them
to look at their wrinkles
collectively.
& I cannot persuade them that being married
or being single
has nothing to do with wrinkles.
Each one sees a deep & bitter groove,
a San Andreas fault across her forehead.
"It is only a matter of time
before the earthquake."
They trade the names of plastic surgeons
like recipes.
My friends are tired.
The ones who have children are tired
of having children.
The ones who are childless are tired
of being childless.
They love their wrinkles.
If only their were deeper
they could hide.
Sometimes I think
(but do not dare to tell them)
that when the face is left alone to dig its grave,
the soul is grateful
& rolls in.
poem by Erica Jong
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