En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Next Day

Moving from Cheer to Joy, from Joy to All,
I take a box
And add it to my wild rice, my Cornish game hens.
The slacked or shorted, basketed, identical
Food-gathering flocks
Are selves I overlook. Wisdom, said William James,

Is learning what to overlook. And I am wise
If that is wisdom.
Yet somehow, as I buy All from these shelves
And the boy takes it to my station wagon,
What I've become
Troubles me even if I shut my eyes.

When I was young and miserable and pretty
And poor, I'd wish
What all girls wish: to have a husband,
A house and children. Now that I'm old, my wish
Is womanish:
That the boy putting groceries in my car

See me. It bewilders me he doesn't see me.
For so many years
I was good enough to eat: the world looked at me
And its mouth watered. How often they have undressed me,
The eyes of strangers!
And, holding their flesh within my flesh, their vile

Imaginings within my imagining,
I too have taken
The chance of life. Now the boy pats my dog
And we start home. Now I am good.
The last mistaken,
Ecstatic, accidental bliss, the blind

Happiness that, bursting, leaves upon the palm
Some soap and water--
It was so long ago, back in some Gay
Twenties, Nineties, I don't know . . . Today I miss
My lovely daughter
Away at school, my sons away at school,

My husband away at work--I wish for them.
The dog, the maid,
And I go through the sure unvarying days
At home in them. As I look at my life,
I am afraid
Only that it will change, as I am changing:

I am afraid, this morning, of my face.
It looks at me
From the rear-view mirror, with the eyes I hate,
The smile I hate. Its plain, lined look
Of gray discovery
Repeats to me: "You're old." That's all, I'm old.

And yet I'm afraid, as I was at the funeral
I went to yesterday.
My friend's cold made-up face, granite among its flowers,
Her undressed, operated-on, dressed body
Were my face and body.
As I think of her and I hear her telling me

How young I seem; I am exceptional;
I think of all I have.
But really no one is exceptional,
No one has anything, I'm anybody,
I stand beside my grave
Confused with my life, that is commonplace and solitary.

poem by Randall Jarrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flesh & Blood (album Version)

Flesh And Blood
If you never plan to come out of your shell, you're never gonna get well.
I understand your reasons not to.
What you don't know is what you're afraid of.
And I'm afraid of it to... But can I even talk to you again?
Oh part of me wants to call you up, and talk to you like a friend.
And there's a part of me that wants to shut you out, and never see your face
again.
Chorus
How can we be like enemies when we're only flesh and blood?
What does it take to make your heart bleed, daddy aren't we enough?
You can get through there's nothing stopping you from getting to us
No one can take a way the fact that we're only...flesh and blood
For years I've been following your case, It's the only time I see your face
And we've learned to live without you.
Who you don't know is who you're afraid of
And we're afraid of you too
But will we ever talk to you again?
Oh part of me wants to call you up, just talk to you like a friend
There's a part of me that wants to shut you out, and never see your face again.
Chorus
I want to make you laugh, and I want a chance to know you better.
I want to hear you sing beside me now.
We're just like you.
Chorus
I want to make you laugh, I want a chance to know you better
I want to hear you sing beside me now... flesh and blood
I'm a part of you, and I miss you.
A song for you, for only you.
Fade

song performed by by Wilson Phillips
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Young Fellow My Lad

"Where are you going, Young Fellow My Lad,
On this glittering morn of May?"
"I'm going to join the Colours, Dad;
They're looking for men, they say."
"But you're only a boy, Young Fellow My Lad;
You aren't obliged to go."
"I'm seventeen and a quarter, Dad,
And ever so strong, you know."

* * * *

"So you're off to France, Young Fellow My Lad,
And you're looking so fit and bright."
"I'm terribly sorry to leave you, Dad,
But I feel that I'm doing right."
"God bless you and keep you, Young Fellow My Lad,
You're all of my life, you know."
"Don't worry. I'll soon be back, dear Dad,
And I'm awfully proud to go."

* * * *

"Why don't you write, Young Fellow My Lad?
I watch for the post each day;
And I miss you so, and I'm awfully sad,
And it's months since you went away.
And I've had the fire in the parlour lit,
And I'm keeping it burning bright
Till my boy comes home; and here I sit
Into the quiet night.

* * * *

"What is the matter, Young Fellow My Lad?
No letter again to-day.
Why did the postman look so sad,
And sigh as he turned away?
I hear them tell that we've gained new ground,
But a terrible price we've paid:
God grant, my boy, that you're safe and sound;
But oh I'm afraid, afraid."

* * * *

"They've told me the truth, Young Fellow My Lad:
You'll never come back again:
(Oh God! the dreams and the dreams I've had,
and the hopes I've nursed in vain!)
For you passed in the night, Young Fellow My Lad,
And you proved in the cruel test
Of the screaming shell and the battle hell
That my boy was one of the best.
"So you'll live, you'll live, Young Fellow My Lad,
In the gleam of the evening star,
In the wood-note wild and the laugh of the child,
In all sweet things that are.
And you'll never die, my wonderful boy,
While life is noble and true;
For all our beauty and hope and joy
We will owe to our lads like you."

poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Casualty

That boy I took in the car last night,
With the body that awfully sagged away,
And the lips blood-crisped, and the eyes flame-bright,
And the poor hands folded and cold as clay --
Oh, I've thought and I've thought of him all the day.

For the weary old doctor says to me:
"He'll only last for an hour or so.
Both of his legs below the knee
Blown off by a bomb. . . . So, lad, go slow,

And please remember, he doesn't know."
So I tried to drive with never a jar;
And there was I cursing the road like mad,
When I hears a ghost of a voice from the car:
"Tell me, old chap, have I `copped it' bad?"
So I answers "No," and he says, "I'm glad."

"Glad," says he, "for at twenty-two
Life's so splendid, I hate to go.
There's so much good that a chap might do,
And I've fought from the start and I've suffered so.
'Twould be hard to get knocked out now, you know."

"Forget it," says I; then I drove awhile,
And I passed him a cheery word or two;
But he didn't answer for many a mile,
So just as the hospital hove in view,
Says I: "Is there nothing that I can do?"

Then he opens his eyes and he smiles at me;
And he takes my hand in his trembling hold;
"Thank you -- you're far too kind," says he:
"I'm awfully comfy -- stay . . . let's see:
I fancy my blanket's come unrolled --
My feet, please wrap 'em -- they're cold . . . they're cold."

poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flesh & Blood

If you never plan to come out of your shell, youre never gonna get well.
I understand your reasons not to.
What you dont know is what youre afraid of.
And Im afraid of it too
But can I even talk to you again?
Oh part of me wants to call you up, and talk to you like a friend.
And theres a part of me that wants to shut you out
And never see your face again.
Chorus:
How can we be like enemies when were only flesh and blood?
What does it take to make your heart bleed, daddy arent we enough?
You can get through theres nothing stopping you from getting to us
No one can take a way the fact that were only...flesh and blood
For years Ive been following your case, its the only time I see your face
And weve learned to live without you.
Who you dont know is who youre afraid of
And were afraid of you too
But will we ever talk to you again?
Oh part of me wants to call you up, just talk to you like a friend
Theres a part of me that wants to shut you out
And never see your face again.
(chorus)
I want to make you laugh, and I want a chance to know you better.
I want to hear you sing beside me now.
Were just like you.
(chorus)
I want to make you laugh, I want a chance to know you better
I want to hear you sing beside me now... flesh and blood
I want to make you laugh (want to make you laugh), and I want a chance to know you better
I want to hear you sing beside me now
Im a part of you, and I miss you.
A song for you, for only you.

song performed by by Wilson Phillips
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Happy Divorcee

Such a lovely person and so nice to know
By the smile on her face she has the inner glow
The windows of her soul are open to light
She is always so cheerful and bubbly and bright.

In her early fifties her brown hair flecked with gray
Perhaps physically she has known a far better day
To her horrible ex husband she was a good wife
And without him she lives a much happier life.

Her ex husband has re-married on her he used to cheat
And when drunk he was aggressive her he used to beat
He done his best for to lower her sense of self esteem
Life for her better without him much better 'twould seem

Their only daughter in her mid twenties is married in a town far away
Her young son will be three on his birthday in May
At Christmas her daughter and grandson she will see
And life is looking good for the happy divorcee.

poem by Francis Duggan
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The Swagman

Oh, he was old and he was spare;
His bushy whiskers and his hair
Were all fussed up and very grey
He said he'd come a long, long way
And had a long, long way to go.
Each boot was broken at the toe,
And he'd a swag upon his back.
His billy-can, as black as black,
Was just the thing for making tea
At picnics, so it seemed to me.

'Twas hard to earn a bite of bread,
He told me. Then he shook his head,
And all the little corks that hung
Around his hat-brim danced and swung
And bobbed about his face; and when
I laughed he made them dance again.
He said they were for keeping flies -
"The pesky varmints" - from his eyes.
He called me "Codger". . . "Now you see
The best days of your life," said he.
"But days will come to bend your back,
And, when they come, keep off the track.
Keep off, young codger, if you can.
He seemed a funny sort of man.

He told me that he wanted work,
But jobs were scarce this side of Bourke,
And he supposed he'd have to go
Another fifty mile or so.
"Nigh all my life the track I've walked,"
He said. I liked the way he talked.
And oh, the places he had seen!
I don't know where he had not been -
On every road, in every town,
All through the country, up and down.
"Young codger, shun the track," he said.
And put his hand upon my head.
I noticed, then, that his old eyes
Were very blue and very wise.
"Ay, once I was a little lad,"
He said, and seemed to grow quite sad.

I sometimes think: When I'm a man,
I'll get a good black billy-can
And hang some corks around my hat,
And lead a jolly life like that.

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Virgin Martyr

Every wild she-bird has nest and mate in the warm April weather,
But a captive woman, made for love -- no mate, no nest has she.
In the spring of young desire, young men and maids are wed together,
And the happy mothers flaunt their bliss for all the world to see:
Nature's sacramental feast for these -- an empty board for me.

I, a young maid once, an old maid now, deposed, despised, forgotten --
I, like them have thrilled with passion and have dreamed of nuptial rest,
Of the trembling life within me of my children unbegotten,
Of a breathing new-born body to my yearning bosom prest,
Of the rapture of a little soft mouth drinking at my breast.

Time, that heals so many sorrows, keeps mine ever freshly aching;
Though my face is growing furrowed and my brown hair turning white,
Still I mourn my irremediable loss, asleep or waking --
Still I hear my son's voice calling "mother" in the dead of night,
And am haunted by my girl's eyes that will never see the light.

O my children that I might have had! my children, lost for ever!
O the goodly years that might have been -- now desolate and bare!
O malignant God or Fate, what have I done that I should never
Take my birthright like the others, take the crown that women wear,
And possess the common heritage to which all flesh is heir?

poem by Ada Cambridge
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The Fool

"But it isn't playing the game," he said,
And he slammed his books away;
"The Latin and Greek I've got in my head
Will do for a duller day."
"Rubbish!" I cried; "The bugle's call
Isn't for lads from school."
D'ye think he'd listen? Oh, not at all:
So I called him a fool, a fool.

Now there's his dog by his empty bed,
And the flute he used to play,
And his favourite bat . . . but Dick he's dead,
Somewhere in France, they say:
Dick with his rapture of song and sun,
Dick of the yellow hair,
Dicky whose life had but begun,
Carrion-cold out there.

Look at his prizes all in a row:
Surely a hint of fame.
Now he's finished with, -- nothing to show:
Doesn't it seem a shame?
Look from the window! All you see
Was to be his one day:
Forest and furrow, lawn and lea,
And he goes and chucks it away.

Chucks it away to die in the dark:
Somebody saw him fall,
Part of him mud, part of him blood,
The rest of him -- not at all.
And yet I'll bet he was never afraid,
And he went as the best of 'em go,
For his hand was clenched on his broken blade,
And his face was turned to the foe.

And I called him a fool . . . oh how blind was I!
And the cup of my grief's abrim.
Will Glory o' England ever die
So long as we've lads like him?
So long as we've fond and fearless fools,
Who, spurning fortune and fame,
Turn out with the rallying cry of their schools,
Just bent on playing the game.

A fool! Ah no! He was more than wise.
His was the proudest part.
He died with the glory of faith in his eyes,
And the glory of love in his heart.
And though there's never a grave to tell,
Nor a cross to mark his fall,
Thank God! we know that he "batted well"
In the last great Game of all.

poem by Robert William Service
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Afraid To Be Alone

I force myself through another day
Can't explain the way today just fell apart like everything
Right in my face
And I try to be the one
I can't accept this all because of you
I've had to walk away
From everything
I'm afraid to be alone
Afraid you'll leave me when I'm gone
I'm afraid to come back home
Another sleepless night again
Hotel rooms my only friend
And friends like that just don't add up
To anything
And I try so hard to be everything
That I should never take away from you again
'Cause I heard ya say
I'm afraid to be alone
Afraid you'll leave me when I'm gone
I'm afraid to come back home
I cannot forget
I live with regret
I cannot forget
I live with...
I'll live through this
I can't see through this
I can't do this anymore
I'm afraid to be alone
Afraid you'll leave me when I'm gone
I'm afraid to come back home
Afraid you'll leave me when I'm gone
I just wish I was back home
Home

song performed by by Staind
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm Not Afraid Of Live

I am not afraid of life
of the poor man's struggle
of the killer's knife
I am not afraid of life
of an insane rage
of the minimum wage
I am not afraid of life

I am not afraid of life
I am not afraid of life

But I see an old lady with a shopping bag
and I wonder is life a drag

I am not afraid of pain
but it hurts so bad
I feel so mad
no one see the truth
there's nothing to gain
a life goes down the drain
don't want to die at an early age

I am not afraid of life
I am not afraid of life

But I see a street crazy shivering with cold
is it a crime to be old

there's the threat of the nuclear bomb
we know it's wrong
we know it's wrong
is there a chance for peace
will the fighting ever cease
mankind's almost out of luck
a maniac could blow us up

I am not afraid of life
I am not afraid of life

but I get down on my knees and I pray
is there hope for the world today

song performed by by Ramones from Too Tough To Die
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Afraid

Do you, do you wanna bleed?
Do you, do you wanna live in vain?
Its only life
Shes so afraid to kiss
An so afraid to laugh
Is she runnin from her past?
Its only life
Shes so afraid of love
Is so afraid of hate
Whats she runnin from now? ?
Do you, do you wanna scream?
Do you, do you wanna face the strange?
Do you, do you believe?
Are you, are you afraid of change?
Its only life
Shes so afraid of this
And so afraid to ask
She hides behind her mask
Nothings ever right
Shes so afraid of pain
So afraid of blame
Its driving her insane
So insecure
There is no cure
Well, shes so afraid
Shes so afraid of death
Shes so afraid, afraid of life
The drama in her head
Getting louder all the time
Getting louder all the time
Shes so afraid, afraid to lose
Been so afraid of fame
Everyday she feels the same
Its driven her insane...
Its driven her...
Its driven...
Its...
Another broken pretty thing

song performed by by Motley Crue
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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what I see...

when i look in the mirror
what do i see?
see a young women trying to find the right path
a young women trying to do whats best for us
the daughter that was never planned but yet brought so much happiness.

u can tell the girl standing in front of the mirror has been through so much
so much it made her the person who she is today...
a strong hearted women who can get through anything if she put her all into it.

but behind that strong women, is a women who isn't as strong as she thought.
a women who quits when things get ruff,
a women who is afraid of change,
afraid of doing the wrong things
afraid of losing the ones that mean the most

when i look into the mirror,
what do i see?

see a young women who is willing to do whats right.
willing to take that next step
willing to start the future over and have a new begining.

see a young women
who is finally letting the past not get the best of her
and moving forward.

-tiffany

poem by Tiffany Carter
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Itsy Bitsy Spider's Mrs

Itsy Bitsy Spider had it tough from the very start,
All he really wanted was to win the Mrs' heart,
But Mrs Spider was angry after a huge fight,
And scurried up the water spout, away from Itsy's sight.

So up went Itsy to the top of the water spout,
But when he reached the top the Mrs gave a shout,
Her rainfall of tears made him run back down,
And that's when Itsy decided to go to town.

Round and round Itsy ran, round and round the town,
"Help! " he yelled, "Help, help! The Mrs pushed me down! "
"I cannot take this pain" he cried, "We haven't spoken for hours"
And a kindly young gentleman said, "Why not give her flowers? "

Flowers, Itsy thought, that will prove I'm devout,
So up went Itsy, up the water spout.
The Mrs pushed him down again, tears in her eyes,
And quite distressed, Itsy gave an unhappy sigh.

Round and round Itsy ran, round and round the town,
"Help! " he yelled, "Help, help! The Mrs pushed me down! "
"I cannot take this pain" he cried, "I saw a tear in her eye"
And a jolly old baker said, "Why not make her a pie?

A pie, itsy thought, that will be the best tack,
So Itsy went up the water spout with a pie on his back.
The Mrs pushed him down again, moaning words of hate,
And Itsy didn't know how to make her emotions sate.

Round and round Itsy ran, round and round the town,
"Help! " he yelled, "Help, help! The Mrs pushed me down! "
"I cannot take this pain" he cried, "She says all we have is hate"
And a pretty little girl said, "Why not bring her on a date? "

A date, Itsy thought, that will ensure forgiveness!
So Itsy clambered up the spout, not wanting any less.
The Mrs pushed him down again, after her tears had rained,
And Itsy wished he could prove that his love was not feigned.

Standing at the bottom of the spout Itsy wondered what to do.
He thought and thought and then suddenly, he knew!
The way to win the Mrs' back was to simply tell the truth,
It can't be so hard, he thought, I've loved her since our youth.

At the bottom of the spout Itsy yelled to Mrs,
"My dear, my dear, how I miss your kisses! "
"I miss your lively eyes and your happy smile,
I need you back right now, if only for a little while".
"Please, oh please, you cannot just say goodbye,
Because if you don't forgive me, I know that I will die"

At the top of the spout the Mrs' rain stopped flowing,
Before Itsy new it, sunshine was growing.
Itsy saw the sun in her eyes and climbed swiftly to her side,
And Mrs Spider beamed at her husband with joy and pride.

poem by Lenore Lee
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The Farmer's Bride

Three summers since I chose a maid,
Too young maybe-but more's to do
At harvest-time that a bide and woo.
When us was wed she turned afraid
Of love and me and all things human;
Like the shut of winter's day
Her smile went out, and `twadn't a woman-
More like a little frightened fay.
One night, in the Fall, she runned away.

"Out 'mong the sheep, her be," they said,
Should properly have been abed;
But sureenough she wadn't there
Lying awake with her wide brown stare.
So over seven-acre field and up-along across the down
We chased her, flying like a hare
Before out lanterns. To Church-Town
All in a shiver and a scare
We caught her, fetched her home at last
And turned the key upon her, fast.

She does the work about the hosue
As well as most, but like a mouse:
Happy enough to cheat and play
With birds and rabbits and such as they,
So long as men-folk keep away
"Not near, not near!" her eyes beseech
When one of us comes within reach.
The woman say that beasts in stall
Look round like children at her call.
I've hardly heard her speak at all.
Shy as a leveret, swift as he,
Straight and slight as a young larch tree,
Sweet as the first wild violets, she,
To her wild self. But what to me?

The short days shorten and the oaks are brown,
The blue smoke rises to the low grey sky,
One leaf in the still air falls slowly down,
A magpie's spotted feathers lie
An the black earth spread white with rime,
The berries redden up to Christmas-time.
What's Christmas-time without there be
Some other in the house than we!

She sleeps up in the attic there
Alone, poor maid. `Tis but a stair
Betwixt us. Oh! my God! the down,
The soft young down of her, the brown,
The brown of her-her eyes, her hair, her hair!

poem by Charlotte Mary Mew
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Two Schools

I put my heart to school
In the world, where men grow wise,
"Go out," I said, "and learn the rule;
Come back when you win a prize."

My heart came back again:
"Now where is the prize?" I cried. ----
"The rule was false, and the prize was pain,
And the teacher's name was Pride."

I put my heart to school
In the woods, where veeries sing,
And brooks run cool and clear;
In the fields, where wild flowers spring,
And the blue of heaven bends near.
"Go out," I said: "you are half a fool,
But perhaps they can teach you here."

"And why do you stay so long,
My heart, and where do you roam?"
The answer came with a laugh and a song, ---
"I find this school is home."

poem by Henry Van Dyke
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Home

I force myself through another day
Cant explain the way today just fell apart like everything
Right in my face
And I try to be the one
I cant accept this all because of you
Ive had to walk away
From everything
Im afraid to be alone
Afraid youll leave me when Im gone
Im afraid to come back home
Another sleepless night again
Hotel rooms my only friend
And friends like that just dont add up
To anything
And I try so hard to be everything
That I should never take away from you again
cause I heard ya say
Im afraid to be alone
Afraid youll leave me when Im gone
Im afraid to come back home
I cannot forget
I live with regret
I cannot forget
I live with...
Ill live through this
I cant see through this
I cant do this anymore
Im afraid to be alone
Afraid youll leave me when Im gone
Im afraid to come back home
Afraid youll leave me when Im gone
I just wish I was back home
Home

song performed by by Staind
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bottled Up Horny Christian

3
times
in
4
years &
1 of those times brought on the little boy whom she spends most of her time taking care of these days
(that is, after all, the reason her man married her-for her child rearing capability)
and she thinks this second sexless marriage
brings with it the security that the first marriage did not
(first guy & her went at it like bunnies until he started finding other bunnies as well) -
the making of constant whoopee that came with the first guy
is secretly missed,
even if she wasn't the only one that had been tickling his pickle-
still, it is hard to ignore the long stretches of time that her "faithful" husband is gone
with his phone turned off,
or just left on the kitchen table, as if he had been out of the house in an awful rush &
when the baby is asleep &
she's masturbating alone
(well, she still has "jesus, " right? -that strapping young fictional character) ,
she wonders just what she did
for "god" to condemn her in such a way,
as certainly this choice was hers alone,
but everyone that raised her told her that if she followed the ways of the bible,
that if she didn't cheat on her husband &
that if she was a good wife,
then things would be ok for her-that "god" would provide-
but would "god" provide her orgasms?

she knows that if she even so much as asks where her husband has been
that said good christian man will make her wish that she hadn't &
that is why she doesn't-
instead, she just moans alone by the grace of "god, " until she gets off &
then feels guilty about having had any pleasure at all-
she knows that when the next time rolls around that the family goes to church,
that she will look good playing the roll of the dutiful wife,
wound tight in her gingham dress & smiling at her husband
who is smiling at some other church whore-
all the time pent up & about to explode from such relentless sexual
craving, wondering if she'll ever have sex again,
telling her close friends that she doesn't even think about it much,
that her hands are full with the baby-
putting on the best show of her life, daily,
she obviously missed her true calling in life-
she would've made a great actress.

poem by Andrew Delapruch
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Now You Know

Everybody knows your war is over
Everybody knows your good side lost
Now your future is fixed
The poor stay poor and the rich get rich
That's just how it goes
Everybody knows you have your reasons
And that winter dominates all your seasons

You think that this is the answer
You think that this is your salvation
You don't understand, you just don't get it
As you happily smoke another hit
Just because it is legal doesn't mean it is safe
With each puff you are causing your own death

Everybody watches, but they don't complain
Nobody tells you that what you are doing is insane
You are suicidal, you are depressed
You can't handle the problems, you can't handle stress
Your mother never keeps in touch
And your father never loved you much
That's why you shy away from other's help
Instead you turn to drugs
You prefer to hang out with the thugs
To you it is much easier than connecting with people

Everybody knows you are killing yourself
Everybody knows you are destroying yourself
Nobody tries to reach you, nobody tries to help
I guess that's just how it goes

You're only thirteen
There is so much you haven't seen
So many places you haven't been
But you hate your young life
You wish for it to end
You're a misunderstood, misguided young woman
With absolutely no life plan

As life goes on you grow up and get a job
Soon you are with husband and child
Life is new, mysterious and wild
You're happier than you ever have been
You are now a woman of thirty - five
But still addicted to the smoke, you are
You still puff your cigar

Now you know you are dying a slow suicide
But with the drugs you are allied
You don't care that you will one day lose everything you have
But you still know, that's just the way it goes

When you are forty and your child is ten
Your depression strikes once again
For the doctor has diagnosed you with cancer
Regards to your twenty - seven years of smoking

Now regret fills you as you lie on your deathbed
For there is so many things you haven't done or said
You will never see your child grow
Your grandchildren you will never know
Your husband will mourn your death
Up until his very last breath

Now you know you should have stopped
You should have quit the cigarettes
Than you wouldn't have so many regrets
Now you know, but it's too late
I guess that's just the way it goes

You say you're sorry with tear - filled eyes
But your family looks at you with despise
"How could you do this to me? " they ask
You reply that you were wearing a mask,
A mask of your true self, hidden beneath the smoke
A mask to hide your pain and suffering
Your son now replies that all you claim are lies

He says with hate-filled eyes
"You had a good life, good enough to get over your hurt
But you threw it all in the dirt."
"Mother, don't you see? "
"The only ones suffering are Daddy and me"

poem by Lenore Lee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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School Boy

When I was of Thrice
My mom dressed me nice
By putting my lovely dress shoes and socks
I went to school with lunch box

Every early morning of new day
I woke up with joy and gay
But when its time to say good bye
To my mom I began to cry!

Soon I habitual and eager to go
Whatever rain, heat or snow
But when I squeezed by homework
I try to cop-out from my work

When I saw exam on my head
I try to stay on bed
I was always fearful scared
And always prays to runaround

As I grew I become mature and impure
I’m more unique and antique
I stand in that position
Where I forgot my definition

As Instead of innocent and smart boy
I become a naughty boy

When I was young I want to be elder
But when I’m elder I want to be younger
Here I’m totally change
As here I want to escape

I try to bunk the classes
And love to be in picnic places
They are great source of fun
With all loons!

Ah! Now I stand on death
And now wandering into these lovely wealth
But I feel sad and cry
For what I miss as a boy

I beg to live this moment
Which are dark and shade.
I’m an innocent school boy
Who want to joy.

Moments are priceless and invaluable
And now I’m going to die
I was born with you
But I’ll die before you

I’ll be back again
In face of your children
Then you’re not going to enjoy
Me again as a school boy

I’m going towards my sepulchre
And remain in your photo or snap
I’ll be with you as in photographs
As an unforgettable memories

I’ll strike your mind
When someone will remind
Or passing from nearby the school boys
Will remind about your lovely days

Ye now I’m going to sleep
And now I’m leaving to weep
Getting ready for others
As I will sprout up in others life

As I’m a school boy
Who loves to joy
I’m a school boy
Who wants to joy
Who wants to joy…

poem by Bhavik Bamania
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lovely Laras

I exclaimed it as "saras, saras, and saras"*(beautiful)
She is my new friend Laras, Laras, Laras
She smiled back as I had promised
To write a poem on her and surprised

May be all good people are having same smile
To look at them inadvertently for a while
How can one look adult also and at the same time so innocent?
I saw it on her face very much present

She seems to be nice personality
A rare combination of human quality
Religious, pious as well as firm believer
In almighty for ever and forever

Her eyes are straight and piercing
Quiet intriguing and menacing
As if asking from a stranger
How one can well manage over anger?

Head is rested over hand
Thinking how to act and become friend
How to put trust on a man
Even though we need to trust as human

I am poet and know the face lines
It may deceive number of times
Yet I see in her as good humorist
Not only good human being but hidden artist

She has every reason to be good
As she has been blessed with food
It is said" good thoughts emerge from grain you eat"
So is the thought and you meet the good fate

You are never put into trouble
Your life journey is smooth and without struggle
You can smile for self and for others
As almighty has shower on you and orders

I would love to have those kinds of eyes
Which may speak without any specific try?
Normal people are afraid and feel shy
But here I need not ask any question for why

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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