Fast thoughts
Siren
Rumble of traffic
Rustle of wind
Singing of birds
Noise of the tv
Cracking and creaking of conservatory
Own soft breathing
Tapping of pen
Rattle of paper
Thoughts
What will this time bring?
What is the phone rings?
Why can't I rid of this hung-over feeling?
What are they doing
And what is he thinking?
Should I feel guilty for sitting and sinking?
Should I be working?
For test that are lurking
What should I wear for work when I'm flirting?
Should I be flirting?
Working my shirt
And being their shine when I know that they hurt?
The sight of my phone
The look of my nails
The book in the background
The newspaper tails
The siren inside
The rumble of words
The rustle of fear
The screaming of thoughts
The need to be free
The cracking and tapping of anxiety
Own soft breathing
Tapping of pen
Rustle of paper
Thoughts
Feeling unhealthy
Fearing the stealthy
Working right now
To one day be wealthy
Making a million
Or giving up bread
The siren of nothing
So loud in my head
Should I get up
And make myself stand?
Make use of this book
This pen in my hand?
Instead I will sit
For a minute of two
And be glad that one day
I'll have nothing to do.
poem by Peggy Pollock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Poet Tree
Rustle, little leaves above, rustle in the breeze...
Rustle, little leaves of love, rustle mid God's peace!
Rustle, every night and day, rustle every hour...
Rustle, rustle, come what may, rustle mid God's power!
Rustle, for then wise words are formed,
Great expectations made!
Through such as these, men's hearts are warmed
And children's prayers are prayed!
Rustle upon the Poet Tree,
Above the poets' ears,
So they may learn each melody,
These God-picked volunteers...
Rustle sweetly, and gently on,
Persist from age to age -
Let all God's poets write upon
Their separate nearby page...
Rustle until all humans die
And no more poets live!
Until no soul would question, 'Why? '
And there's no cause to give!
Rustle until God tells you stop,
'Dear friends, at last, be free...
'Tis time for you to fall, to drop...
Beneath the Poet Tree...
I've loved each poem, every one...
And Jesus loved them, too!
You've blessed the world! Your task is done!
Your rustle days are through...'
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Siren
Siren, siren, calling me from the sea,
Spill the sweetness of your words and your voice—
Spill them with such lucid fluidity
That I sink in them without having choice.
Siren, siren, sing me into a lull,
Bewitch me with your charm and your danger—
An insatiable thirst I can't control
For adventures, your lure of grandeur.
Siren, siren, slipping through my fingers
Like a formless liquid, make me submit.
You move with an air that seems to linger,
Perfumed with pleasures that seem infinite.
Siren, siren, entice the sensation
Of love within my imagination.
poem by Tim Stensloff
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Voice
`
leaves rustle in a dance
the wind, their live band
birds, their vocal ensemble
but your voice remains still
not a sound to be heard
leaves rustle on a tome
your words printed out and bound
inked clues guide memories
but your voice still remains -
faded familiar sound
leave, just leave without a word
your thoughts riding on the wind
echo back that distant call
bring to life this one last time
the hearts you left behind
`
poem by Frederick Kesner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Motionless
Work
Work
That's what I need to do
Work
Work
I feel so lazy
Working machine
Working machine
That's what I need to be
I need to make my grades go sky high
Make the entire house gleam
Make the best meal ever
Work
Work
Why don't I start
I should just work
All the time
Push everything else away
Instead I sit here
Staring at the T.V.
Staring at a book
Staring at my family
Staring at a magazine
Nanny's making supper
I really should go help
I should take over
And while I'm at it
I should study for my test
And dust, too
But instead I sit
And sit
And sit
And sit
And sit
Just staring,
Watching my life pass me by
poem by Candace Johnson
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Siren of the Red
Siren of the Red,
Your voice sings so beautifully.
Siren of the Red,
You can help me see.
Siren of the Red,
How to make you love me.
Siren of the Red,
With your love so heavenly.
poem by Satan's Sibling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If You Could Feel My Words
If you could feel my words they'd touch you softly,
Like my hand grazing your cheek, warming your heart,
And sending you comfort and peace.
If you could hear my fingers tapping nimbly
Over my keyboard they'd be a love song,
A soft whisper chanting my soul's mantra,
Quietly calling your name.
If I could make love to you with pen and paper
You'd feel my thoughts as intensely
As they pour from my mind.
My fingers strumming over the keys
Would be caresses gliding over your skin,
A kiss on your sweet lips,
On your neck a gentle bite.
If I could make you love me with a poem
My phrases would wrap around you like
Silk metaphors tickling your senses.
The stanzas binding your heart to mine
As rhymes charm and seduce you into submission.
Our days would be a jaunty limerick
And our nights a passionate ballad.
If only you could feel my words.
poem by Susan Brealey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Everything Is Kiling Me....
As soon as you're born they make you feel small
By giving you no time instead of it all
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
They hurt you at home and they hit you at school
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool
Till you're so fucking crazy you can't follow their rules
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
When they've tortured and scared you for twenty odd years
Then they expect you to pick a career
When you can't really function you're so full of fear
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV
And you think you're so clever and classless and free
But you're still fucking peasants as far as I can see
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
There's room at the top they are telling you still
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill
If you want to be like the folks on the hill
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
If you want to be a hero well just follow me
If you want to be a hero well just follow me
poem by Adnan Zahedi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Working Class Hero
As soon as you're born they make you feel small,
By giving you no time instead of it all,
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
They hurt you at home and they hit you at school,
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool,
Till you're so f***ing crazy you can't follow their rules.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
When they've tortured and scared you for twenty odd years,
Then they expect you to pick a career,
When you can't really function you're so full of fear.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV,
And you think you're so clever and classless and free,
But you're still f***ing peasants as far as I can see.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
There's room at the top they are telling you still,
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill,
If you want to be like the folks on the hill.
A working class hero is something to be.
A working class hero is something to be.
If you want to be a hero well just follow me,
If you want to be a hero well just follow me.
song, music by John Lennon, lyrics by John Lennon from John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band (11 December 1970)
Submitted by anonym
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Junior Cowboy
Looking down on a junior cowboy
I see myself at the end of each day
Im feeling sad somehow
My rumble tumble days are over now
Took loopy loo to a paper hat party
And fought the kid who tried to take her away
Im feeling sad somehow
My rumble tumble days are over now
Running away,you dont know,you dont care
Funny the way that we change
Playing spoof at the back of the schoolyard
With no thought for the rest of the day
Im feeling sad somehow
cause my rumble tumble days are over now
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Raven
[Spoken Track]
[Poe:]
Once upon a midnight dreary
as I pondered, weak and weary
over many a quaint and curious
volume of forgotten lore
while I nodded, nearly napping
suddenly there came a tapping
as of some one gently rapping
rapping at my chamber door
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered
"tapping at my chamber door
only this and nothing more."
Muttering I got up weakly
always I've had trouble sleeping
stumbling upright my mind racing
furtive thoughts flowing once more
I, there hoping for some sunrise
happiness would be a surprise
loneliness no longer a prize
rapping at my chamber door
seeking out the clever bore
lost in dreams forever more
only this and nothing more
Hovering my pulse was racing
stale tobacco my lips tasting
scotch sitting upon my basin
remnants of the night before
came again
infernal tapping on the door
in my mind jabbing
is it in or outside rapping
calling out to me once more
the fit and fury of Lenore
nameless here forever more
And the silken sad uncertain
rustling of the purple curtain
thrilled me, filled me
with fantastic terrors never felt before
so that now, oh wind, stood breathing
hoping yet to calm my breathing
"'Tis some visitor entreating
entrance at my chamber door
some lost visitor entreating
entrance at my chamber door
this it is, and nothing more."
Deep into the darkness peering
long I stood there
wondering fearing
doubting dreaming fantasies
no mortal dared to dream before
but the silence was unbroken
and the stillness gave no token
and the only word there spoken
was the whispered name, "Lenore
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Workin' For The Man
Workin' For The Man
Roy Orbison
Hey now you better listen to me everyone of you
We got a lotta lotta lotta lotta work to do
Forget about your woman and that water can
Today were working for the man
well pick up your feet
we've got a deadline to meet
I'm gonna see you make it on time
Don't relax
I want elbows and backs
I wanna see everybody from behind
'Cause your working for the man working for the man
you gotta make him a hand when you're working for the man
Oh well I'm pickin' 'em up and I'm laying 'em down
I believe he's gonna work me into the ground
I pull to the left I heave to the right
I wanna kill him but it wouldn't be right
'Cause I,m working for the man working for the man
gotta make him a hand when you're working for the man
Well the boss man's daughter sneaks me water
everytime her daddy's down the line
she says meet me tonight love a me right
and everything is gonna be fine
So I slave all day without much pay
'cause I'm just abiding my time
'cause the company and the daughter you see
Their both gonna be all mine
Yah I'm gonna be the man gonna be the man
Gotta make him a hand if I'm gonna be the man
working for the man working for the man
gonna be the man gonna be the man
Gotta make him a hand working for the man
From: Deise (Julio C Pereira
)
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lake Worth Herald
The Lake Worth Herald records events in Lake Worth town
Mark Easton works hard making sure Lake Worth Herald paper gets out.
It's Wednesday afternoon and the printing press is running
all of Mark's stories are real life, serious and also funny.
The Lake Worth Library had an article on me
with UniCandle unicorn and doll Melodie.
It was November 2006 and I was on
Lake Worth Herald's cover page
sitting on birthday chair where
children celebrate their age.
Lake Worth Herald is printing
my new poetry book
-the one you are reading-
soon also on the Nook.
Mark was gracious and helped get my book right
he is friendly and easy to work with editing my book
to make it out of sight!
For it has a glow in the dark cover
it is different not like any other.
Thanks Mark for your kindness in working with me
it was a pleasure working with you and also a
'Thank You' from my doll on the front cover Melodie!
poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Thoughts
Thought in the eyes,
The ears.
Thought in mind,
The brain,
Thought in heart,
The soul.
Great thought is great
when it becomes great deeds.
With my thoughts within
Building my world within
Learning with thought;
Is great learning wisdom.
Learning without thought,
Is opportunity lost.
Thought for others
Thought for God
Thought for good
Thought for God’s blessing
Thoughts teach me,
Thoughts educate me,
Thoughts clarify me,
Thoughts enlighten me.
Thoughts make me wise
Thoughts make me patience
Thoughts make me trust others
Thoughts make me clam.
Thoughts before act
Is smart and wise
Act before thoughts
Is stupid and foolish
That’s my thoughts
They make thinking clear
They make belief deepen
They make confidence high.
In thoughts, my world
In my world, make my thoughts.
In thoughts, my words
In my words, make my speech
It’s my thoughts count
Counting my thoughts
To endless counting thoughts
Thinking the thoughts endlessly
My thoughts and thoughts again.
poem by Lawrence Hiung
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flirt or not?
If looking in the eye...
And telling them what you really feel about them...
IS flirting....
If accepting and appreciating a truth about a person...
And making the person feel nice about it...
IS flirting...
If staying close everytime that person is around...
And giving a hug whenever you could...
IS flirting...
If speaking from the bottom of your heart...
And smiling everytime you talk to that person...
IS flirting...
If stealing glances every now and then...
And getting naughty at times...
IS flirting...
Then yes... i am a FLIRT! ! ! and proud to be one...
poem by Nivea Antony
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lake Worth Herald
The Lake Worth Herald records events in Lake Worth town
Mark Easton works hard making sure Lake Worth Herald paper gets out.
It's Wednesday afternoon and the printing press is running
all of Mark's stories are real life, serious and also funny.
The Lake Worth Library had an article on me
with UniCandle unicorn and doll Melodie.
It was November 2006 and I was on
Lake Worth Herald's cover page
sitting on birthday chair where
children celebrate their age.
Lake Worth Herald is printing
my new poetry book
-the one you are reading-
soon also on the Nook.
Mark was gracious and helped get my book right
he is friendly and easy to work with editing my book
to make it out of sight!
For it has a glow in the dark cover
it is different not like any other.
Thanks Mark for your kindness in working with me
it was a pleasure working with you and also a
"Thank You" from my doll on the front cover Melodie!
Written by Suzae Chevalier on March 10,2012
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Monsoon Dawn
your alluring siren
‘Monsoon Musings '
Indira Babbellapati
transform transplant
receptive poetic heart
into true romantic reign
moments of soul quickened
heart felt fused appreciation
breathing birthright storm stir
rain-soaked wind-blowen
veil-form lightning-fuses
light-hearted far-longing
dagger flash recognition
through third eye open
awareness netting monsoon
soft siren beautiful sensual poem
from the heart mind hand
of a beautiful image versed soul
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Night Song
Listen
The city is singin' its night song
A city of shadows and fading starlight
Mixed with bar light
Listen
The empty streets echo the right song
A melody I used to think was only for the
Lonely
Night song
I hear you
Now as the night disappears
But this time
Your blues
Is music to my ears
The rumble of the train
The rustle of the wind
The rhythm of the footsteps
The blarin' of a horn
The murmur of a voice
The echo of a siren
Night song!
You used to find me cryin' in my beer
Now you remind me tomorrow she'll be here
She'll be here!
Oh, night song
You sing of a train from New Orleans
And deep in the music I hear her hummin'
Now she's coming home!
The city is singin' its night song
Listen
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sin's Round
Sorry I am, my God, sorry I am,
That my offences course it in a ring.
My thoughts are working like a busy flame,
Until their cockatrice they hatch and bring:
And when they once have perfected their draughts,
My words take fire from my inflamed thoughts.
My words take fire fro m my inflamed thoughts,
Which spit it forth like the Sicilian hill.
They vent their wares, and pass them with their faults,
And by their breathing ventilate the ill.
But words suffice not, where are lewd intentions:
My hands do join to finish the inventions.
My hands do join to finish the inventions:
And so my sins ascend three stories high,
As Babel grew, before there were dissentions.
Let ill deeds loiter not: for they supply
New thoughts of sinning:
wherefore, to my shame,
Sorry I am, my God, sorry I am.
poem by George Herbert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Lake Worth Herald
The Lake Worth Herald records events in Lake Worth town
Mark Easton works hard making sure Lake Worth Herald paper gets out.
It's Wednesday afternoon and the printing press is running
all of Mark's stories are real life, serious and also funny.
The Lake Worth Library had an article on me
with UniCandle unicorn and doll Melodie.
It was November 2006 and I was on
Lake Worth Herald's cover page
sitting on birthday chair where
children celebrate their age.
Lake Worth Herald is printing
my new poetry book
-the one you are reading-
soon also on the Nook.
Mark was gracious and helped get my book right
he is friendly and easy to work with editing my book
to make it out of sight!
For it has a glow in the dark cover
it is different not like any other.
Thanks Mark for your kindness in working with me
it was a pleasure working with you and also a
"Thank You" from my doll on the front cover Melodie!
Written by Suzae Chevalier on March 10,2012
poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Writing Day
She far watching me as I write
tapping these lines
ignoring side glances
It's now close to seven at night
and we have yet
to start breakfast cooking
My blinders are on kettle cold
only tepid thing
about us being
her first poet I am told
second artist
reassuring novice
But she likes to watch me working
comfort claiming
my mistress accepting
Today for grace a day writing
pulse permissive
as her shoulder tapping's
copyright Randy Resh 2008
poem by Randy Resh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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