En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Without Looking

Either at my friend's daughter's
sixteen-year-old body dumped
on the morgue slab, T-shirt
stuck fast to one ripped
breast I identified quick, and then
got out of there

or at the old gentleman
with tubes in the living room, spittle
stained in his wispy
beard, out of
the corner of my eye I hardly
notice it, how

could I, drink in hand
at five-thirty, at the least
sign of pain one of us always itches
to turn away, another turns
over in sleep, groans
O, we who are so lucky

just to be able to
ignore, go back
quick, to our books, to
have books, even, how
difficult it is to look
hard and head
on has not been said

often enough, if prayer
is an act of attention
even to dropped stitches, blood
dangling beneath the lines, the
poem? I said,
what prepares us for what
will never save us?

Anonymous submission.

poem by Patricia Goedicke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poet Of Ignorance

Perhaps the earth is floating,
I do not know.
Perhaps the stars are little paper cutups
made by some giant scissors,
I do not know.
Perhaps the moon is a frozen tear,
I do not know.
Perhaps God is only a deep voice
heard by the deaf,
I do not know.

Perhaps I am no one.
True, I have a body
and I cannot escape from it.
I would like to fly out of my head,
but that is out of the question.
It is written on the tablet of destiny
that I am stuck here in this human form.
That being the case
I would like to call attention to my problem.

There is an animal inside me,
clutiching fast to my heart,
a huge carb.
The doctors of Boston
have thrown up their hands.
They have tried scalpels,
needles, poison gasses adn the like.
The crab remains.
It is a great weight.
I try to forget it, go about my business,
cook the broccoli, open the shut books,
brush my teeth and tie my shoes.
I have tried prayer
but as I pray the crab grips harder
and the pain enlarges.

I had a dream once,
perhaps it was a dream,
that the crab was my ignorance of God.
But who am I to believe in dreams?

Anonymous submission.

poem by Anne Sexton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Difficult Age

Difficult age
Youre just fourteen
And youre not friends with your body
Painfully thin
Look at your skin
Play with yourself for a hobby
How can they love a man who does that to himself?
Difficult age
Turn on the page
Have that wee drink in the meantime
Difficult age
Now youre eighteen
Heres all the freedoms you wanted
All the best clothes
A looker who goes
The size of your wage packet flaunted
How can they love a man who does that to himself?
Difficult age
Turn on the page
And have that wee drink in the meantime
Difficult age
Hes twenty-nine
Thirty just lurks round the corner
Settled for life
Nice kids and wife
Pull out a plum like jack horner
Difficult age
Turn on the page
Have that wee drink in the meantime
Difficult age
Now thirty-eight
And youre not friends with your body
Wish you were thin
Look at your skin
Wasting yourself for a hobby
How can they love a man who does that to himself?

song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Watch

I wakened on my hot, hard bed;
Upon the pillow lay my head;
Beneath the pillow I could hear
My little watch was ticking clear.
I thought the throbbing of it went
Like my continual discontent,
I thought it said in every tick:
I am so sick, so sick, so sick;
O death, come quick, come quick, come quick,
Come quick, come quick, come quick, come quick.

poem by Frances Darwin Cornford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Watch

I wakened on my hot, hard bed;
Upon the pillow lay my head;
Beneath the pillow I could hear
My little watch was ticking clear.
I thought the throbbing of it went
Like my continual discontent;
I thought it said in every tick:
I am so sick, so sick, so sick:
O death, come quick, come quick, come quick,
Come quick, come quick, come quick, come quick...

poem by Barry Cornwall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Twenty-five To Twelve

You say you dont desire me
You only tire me
Now youll hire me
Expensive care is meaningless
Feeling nothing and caring less
Cut off at the pass
She knows where youre headed
She wants double time
Or a temporary wedding
Chorus:
And the lucky girl leads a life of leisure
With 45 years for seconds of pleasure
The hands on the clock move so precisely
And I only kiss but once or twice
I cant help you now,
I cant help myself
cause the times running out
And its twenty-five to twelve
Crowds surround loudspeakers
On the lampposts
Listening to the murder mystery
Meanwhile someones in the classroom
Busy forging books on history
Wouldnt give that man my hand
Hed steal my fingers
So the sleuth ends up in stitches
And your urges turn to itches
Chorus
I was committed to life
And then commuted to the outskirts
I was living with thirty minutes at a time
With a break in the middle for adverts
See the human furniture
But its only for show
Now you can look all that you like
But they only let you touch and go
Chorus

song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Quick Is The Beat Of My Heart

Written by lewis mark
Lead vocals by james young
If its my time to die today
Please God oh make it fast
Balanced on this point for a year and half
I just dont think I can last
Theres a man whos laid to rest
The man who gave me my start
I wish I could quit but I cant and its rough
Quick is the beat of my heart
Quick is the beat of my heart
So please all you people
Dont you grieve for me
The blood in my veins is black and I cant bleed
Ive suffered the pain
And all I can face is the dark
Oh, lord, quick is the beat of my heart
Quick is the beat of my heart
Now my bags are almost packed
The trains about to depart
I wish I could quit but I cant and its rough
Quick is the beat of my heart
Quick is the beat of my heart
Quick is the beat of my heart
Quick is the beat of my heart
Quick is the beat of my heart
Quick is the beat of my heart
If its my time to die...

song performed by by Styx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Case Of Murder

They should not have left him there alone,
Alone that is except for the cat.
He was only nine, not old enough
To be left alone in a basement flat,
Alone, that is, except for the cat.
A dog would have been a different thing,
A big gruff dog with slashing jaws,
But a cat with round eyes mad as gold,
Plump as a cushion with tucked-in paws---
Better have left him with a fair-sized rat!
But what they did was leave him with a cat.
He hated that cat; he watched it sit,
A buzzing machine of soft black stuff,
He sat and watched and he hated it,
Snug in its fur, hot blood in a muff,
And its mad gold stare and the way it sat
Crooning dark warmth: he loathed all that.
So he took Daddy's stick and he hit the cat.
Then quick as a sudden crack in glass
It hissed, black flash, to a hiding place
In the dust and dark beneath the couch,
And he followed the grin on his new-made face,
A wide-eyed, frightened snarl of a grin,
And he took the stick and he thrust it in,
Hard and quick in the furry dark.
The black fur squealed and he felt his skin
Prickle with sparks of dry delight.
Then the cat again came into sight,
Shot for the door that wasn't quite shut,
But the boy, quick too, slammed fast the door:
The cat, half-through, was cracked like a nut
And the soft black thud was dumped on the floor.
Then the boy was suddenly terrified
And he bit his knuckles and cried and cried;
But he had to do something with the dead thing there.
His eyes squeezed beads of salty prayer
But the wound of fear gaped wide and raw;
He dared not touch the thing with his hands
So he fetched a spade and shovelled it
And dumped the load of heavy fur
In the spidery cupboard under the stair
Where it's been for years, and though it died
It's grown in that cupboard and its hot low purr
Grows slowly louder year by year:
There'll not be a corner for the boy to hide
When the cupboard swells and all sides split
And the huge black cat pads out of it.

Submitted by Andrew Mayers

poem by by unknown author
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Librarian

She put her 'check out books at down-stairs counter' sign and headed for the graduate stacks to do her -re-shelving.

The book cart rolled along punctuating her thoughts about him. Brian, she was sure would be there in the stacks, at his little desk against the wall pretending to be buried in his books and she would come in and pretend to be shelving her books and she would pretend to notice him casually.

It would be awkward but the awkwardness of it was exciting for her. Thirty-two and not married but idling for something to happen in her life she was ripe for something to happen and the desulatory weaving pushing the cart did not conceal from even her where her true destination was. She was headed straight toward him, her twenty-five year old Robert Redford look-alike virgin.

To be continued.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Problematic Sleeping

a sleepless night.
awake, I can't fight.
every thought bounces into my head.
so I let them run
and every single one
rush around and give me pain instead.
.
give my bedroom
one last sweep
so everything looks like it's in place
get into bed
but don't feel dead
as I turn off the light at 12: 23
turn here, leg there,
til I'm tangled as best as can be
hand there, hair's too near
kinda warm- should I ditch the shirt?
uncomfortable, I am.
think about turning on the fan
so real quick-like I do
and the next thing I knew
was that my mind refused to sleep.

poem by D.M.L. Catseye
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Second Hand Books

Books! Books! Books! There are so many different designs.
There are some which, by the author, are personally signed.
Some books have pages with gilt edges, which look all posh.
Some have nice pictures on their covers, which are embossed.

Some books have hard covers, while some have soft.
Some are all dusty, where they’ve been kept in the loft.
Some books have fancy covers; some just have plain.
Some have suffered mishaps, and are now all stained.

Some books are all dog-eared at the corners of their pages.
Some have gone yellow, where they’ve been around ages.
Inside some books, there can be seen a pencilled name;
Someone, who once, on this particular book, had a claim.

Some are obviously well read; their spines are all creased.
From out of a book, amazing adventures can be unleashed.
Some books have pages which are spoiled or a bit torn.
Some have covers which are grubby and look well worn.

Some just have text, while others also include illustrations.
Some are former prize winners; once the toast of the nation.
There are books by famous authors, as well as the lesser known.
Some are former library books which, to the public, were loaned.

There are romances, poetry, classics, sci-fi, humour, and histories;
Gardening, cookery, travel, thrillers, manga, and murder mysteries.
In wooden bookcases, the books are categorised, and are neatly lined.
In a second hand bookshop, you just never know what you may find.

poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ain't That A Kick In The Head

How lucky can one guy be?
I kissed her and she kissed me
Like the fella once said,
"ain't that a kick in the head?"
The room was completely black,
I hugged her and she hugged back
Like the sailor said, quote,
"ain't that a hole in the boat?"
My head keeps spinnin',
I go to sleep and keep grinnin'
If this is just the beginnin',
My life is gonna be bee-yoo-tee-ful
I've sunshine enough to spread,
It's just like the fella said
Tell me quick, ain't love a kick in the head?
Like the fella once said,
"ain't that a kick in the head?"
Like the sailor said, quote,
"ain't that a hole in the boat?"
My head keeps spinnin',
I go to sleep and keep grinnin'
If this is just the beginnin',
My life is gonna be bee-yoo-tee-ful
She's tellin' me we'll be wed,
She's picked out a king-size bed
I couldn't feel any better or i'd be sick
Tell me quick oh, ain't love a kick?
Tell me quick ain't love a kick in the head?

song performed by by Westlife
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The RAPIST She Fought Back

(5/9/12)

I was coming home late from a date, and did not look
To see if anyone was around or was following me.
When out of the darkness he jumped out
And put his hand on my mouth.

Then put a knife to my throat and told me
"don't be stupid if you want to live
To me your body you will give."

She was always told: "don't put your life in harms way
And if you can - run away".
And if someone grabs you from behind
You must stomp on his foot as hard as you can
He will loosen up his hand. (which she did)

She swung her arm back as hard as she could
The pain in his crotch - he understood.
He dropped the knife and released his hold
She ran so fast - before her legs got cold.

Now there is a reason for this poem I must tell.
DON'T BE A VICTIM- RUN LIKE HELL.

I always told my daughter: to always look around
And to listen for any unfamiliar sound
Preventive medicine can always help you through
If you know just what to do.

p.s. this is just a story -but can happen.

poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cutting Again

The war is in my mind.
The wounds are on my body.
I've always drawn in lines,
Cause you can trust those lines

Look at the red and wonder.
Feel the stickiness.
And as it flows I ponder,
Is this a sickness?

You look nice fresh.
So ugly when you dry.
As you heal you turn my flesh,
As you heal you bring my high

I never stop to think about it.
As I drag my metal friend.
But senses come quick,
When the pain ends...

poem by Rue Kendra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Aint That A Kick In The Head

Written by sammy cahn and jimmy van heusen
How lucky can one guy be?
I kissed her and she kissed me
Like the fella once said,
Aint that a kick in the head?
The room was completely black,
I hugged her and she hugged back
Like the sailor said, quote,
Aint that a hole in the boat?
My head keeps spinnin,
I go to sleep and keep grinnin
If this is just the beginnin,
My life is gonna be bee-yoo-tee-ful
Ive sunshine enough to spread,
Its just like the fella said
Tell me quick, aint love a kick in the head?
Like the fella once said,
Aint that a kick in the head?
Like the sailor said, quote,
Aint that a hole in the boat?
My head keeps spinnin,
I go to sleep and keep grinnin
If this is just the beginnin,
My life is gonna be bee-yoo-tee-ful
Shes tellin me well be wed,
Shes picked out a king-size bed
I couldnt feel any better or Id be sick
Tell me quick oh, aint love a kick?
Tell me quick aint love a kick in the head?

song performed by by Robbie Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Books Are Burning

Books are burning
In the main square, and I saw there
The first eating the text
Books are burning
In the still air
And you know where they burn books
People are next
I believe the printed word should be forgiven
Doesnt matter what it said
Wisdom hotline from the dead back to the living
Key to the larder for your heart and head
Books are burning
In our own town, watch us turn round
And cast our glances elsewhere
Books are burning
In the playground
Smell of burnt book is not unlike human hair
I believe the printed word is more than sacred
Beyond the gauge of good or bad
The human right to let your soul fly free and naked
Above the violence of the fearful and sad
The church of matches
Anoints in ignorance with gasoline
The church of matches
Grows fat by breathing in the smoke of dreams
Its quite obscene
Books are burning
More each day now, and I pray now
You boys will tire of these games
Books are burning
I hope somehow, this will allow
A phoenix up from the flames

song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Take Her Off Life Support

I see mercury and i'll see you soon
I'm shooting off the moon.
It comes too quick.
The one only power.
It should not be your dieing hour.
Yet it is.
Beyond comprehension
Beyond prevention
How can I save you?
What do I have to do?
You name it.
A contract written in blood.
Where do I sign.
Is their even enough time.
I feel like giving up.
I feel like just shutting everyone out.
Please don't make me shout.
Just lift one finger.
Is that really too much to ask.
Watching a car crash in slow motion.
I'm swimming in a mix of twisted emotion.
With love as my devotion.
I promise things will change.
Your death will not be in vein
I'm sorry but I can not watch you die in pain.
I must turn away.
I just can't stay.
So Powerless
Fine its yours
Fine its yours
Take it
Make it quick
May god only forgive
For the decision I made

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Did Not Avoid You

we meet
and then i greet you
hello
you ignore me
by shifting your gaze
to the bus
you turned your head
left and right
right to left
and i wait for you to mind
me
and i stand still and look
at you still
you are bringing flowers
i think they are for me
you take the taxi
rushing
you close it and you do not
notice me crying
it rains and i get wet
and i take a walk back
to the park
the winds begin to blow
hard on my face
i take a taxi back to my
house
i close the door and
i sleep
you call me on your cellphone
i turn it off

and then you write a poem
that i am avoiding you?

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Books

The universe (which others call the library). . .
-Jorge Luis Borges

Books which are stitched up the center with coarse white thread
Books on the beach with sunglass-colored pages
Books about food with pictures of weeping grapefruits
Books about baking bread with browned corners
Books about long-haired Frenchmen with uncut pages
Books of erotic engravings with pages that stick
Books about inns whose stars have sputtered out
Books of illuminations surrounded by darkness
Books with blank pages & printed margins
Books with fanatical footnotes in no-point type
Books with book lice
Books with rice-paper pastings
Books with book fungus blooming over their pages
Books with pages of skin with flesh-colored bindings
Books by men in love with the letter O
Books which smell of earth whose pages turn

poem by Erica Jong
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The Front Line

The unknown causes fear for most,
but I look at it as,
a friend waiting for me.
It could be good,
could be bad,
but all I know is,
I'm ready for it.
I'm ready to run if I must,
I'm ready to draw my sword,
I'm ready to fight till
my final breath,
a true fight till
the death.
Get in line,
all armor on and firm,
for tonight blood will be poured out
upon all people,
those with swords,
and those with shields,
all will feel such pain.
Are you ready,
to draw your sword
then step out onto
the front line?
Are you ready,
to say good-bye,
to those you loved?
Life isn't easy,
so think fast and come quick,
run now and you won't
need to worry,
about the blood others will shed.
Run and be quick,
hurry and escape.
before they take my life,
all because
I tried to save yours.

poem by Katherine Bryce
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Quick

Quick to dismiss,
That which is misunderstood.
And quick to do this often.
Because one can and could.

Quick to define something wrong.
Quick to complain about it,
All day long.
Quick to sit to nitpick and pull apart.
As if this quickness was intended from the start.

Quick to resist a comprehension that exist.
Quick to allow a temper tantrum fit.
Quick to whip up excuses...
And split to disappear.

Quick to discover the nearest exit!
That's what troublemakers do...
When they stir up others in raging fits!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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