The Woman At The Washington Zoo
The saris go by me from the embassies.
Cloth from the moon. Cloth from another planet.
They look back at the leopard like the leopard.
And I. . . .
this print of mine, that has kept its color
Alive through so many cleanings; this dull null
Navy I wear to work, and wear from work, and so
To my bed, so to my grave, with no
Complaints, no comment: neither from my chief,
The Deputy Chief Assistant, nor his chief--
Only I complain. . . . this serviceable
Body that no sunlight dyes, no hand suffuses
But, dome-shadowed, withering among columns,
Wavy beneath fountains--small, far-off, shining
In the eyes of animals, these beings trapped
As I am trapped but not, themselves, the trap,
Aging, but without knowledge of their age,
Kept safe here, knowing not of death, for death--
Oh, bars of my own body, open, open!
The world goes by my cage and never sees me.
And there come not to me, as come to these,
The wild beasts, sparrows pecking the llamas' grain,
Pigeons settling on the bears' bread, buzzards
Tearing the meat the flies have clouded. . . .
Vulture,
When you come for the white rat that the foxes left,
Take off the red helmet of your head, the black
Wings that have shadowed me, and step to me as man:
The wild brother at whose feet the white wolves fawn,
To whose hand of power the great lioness
Stalks, purring. . . .
You know what I was,
You see what I am: change me, change me!
poem by Randall Jarrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Work That Body Rap Song = 2012
Drive my car wear my jewels
Make me feel like the king of fools.
Work that body
Work that body
Try not to hurt nobody
David loved Bathsheba, Samson loved Delilah
I love you and your name is Twyla.
Work that body
Work that body
Try not to hurt nobody
Life without love is empty and cruel
Without God's grace I remain a fool.
Work that body
Work that body
Try not to hurt nobody
After death I pray to go to Heaven
For I've been saved since I was eleven.
Work that body
Work that body
Try not to hurt nobody
Life can be short, life can be long
God sees all we do right or wrong.
Work that body
Work that body
Try not to hurt nobody
Big Chief Woolley Bosher
In the land they call the west
On the praries virgin crest
Lived a great man and his braves
And he led them to their graves
Big chief plays with baby son
The work of the indian today is done
Life is easy, life is grand
til there is white man, gun in hand
Started out when settlers came
And built their homes on the indian range
Big chief woolly bosher liked it none
Traded with a bad man for a gun
Big chief looks out at his great land
Locomotive on the prairie stands
Life that leak from the city in the east
Let us destroy that iron beast
Big chief rides on the trail tonight
Tread the land for which he must fight
In their fight for love and glory
Some indians were saved
They lived to tell the story
And woolly bosher prays
Big chief rides on the trail tonight
Soldier boys marching in the morning light
Bring the guns, bring the bows
Lets blow them into heaven lets see if God knows
One hundred men must have to die
When a thousand soldiers look you in the eye
Big chief sees his men fall round
The soldiers kill and the bugle sounds
In their fight for love and glory
No indians were saved
And big chief woolly bosher
Had written on his grave
He has done no wrong
Except being bold
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jefferson Aero Plane
If it hurts,
Kiss it better
You wear skirts,
I write nice letters
Never said nothing with flowers
Though we always talked for hours
And it seems to get much colder
When you cry on your own shoulder
And we know the show
Must go on
Guess I know
I guess Ill throw on
Some jefferson airplane
Im trapped and I am enclosed
But I wont complain
Ill open all the windows
Jefferson airplane
Im trapped and I am enclosed
But I wont complain
Ill open all the windows
Cause when its colder
I feel much better
When I cry on my own shoulder
Ill just throw on a sweater and go
And Ill go to undergo a change of heart, a change of clothes
And when Im home, I think Ill go eat cereal and stare out the window
Ill make the calls
You cover your ears
Niagra falls
Still flows on new years
I will save
Your plunging neck-line
Kiss your face
You try to deck mine
If I behave its going to cost him
Stop the rave in downtown boston
And we know the show
Must go on
Guess I know
I guess Ill throw on
Some jefferson airplane
Im trapped and I am enclosed
But I wont complain
Ill open all the windows
Jefferson airplane
Im trapped and I am enclosed
But I wont complain
Ill open all the windows
Cause when its colder
I feel much better
When I cry on my own shoulder
Ill just throw on a sweater and go
And Ill go to undergo a surgery to purge me of this lonely mood
And my ego, the status quo, provides me with a decent attitude
And Ill go to undergo a change of heart, a change of clothes
And when Im home, Ill think Ill go eat cereal and stare out the window
Cause you confused me more than anyone
An adjustment has begun
To let me feel the desperate need to leave what we undid undone
And maybe you could sympathize
With the bags under my eyes
And well see the signs are saying that we have used up all our (tries)
Try to be a better person
To be a better friend
To be a better son
He tries to be a better someone
That understands the difference
And that he cant show all the people all the things that really mean as much as he could (feel)
Feels like I dont remember
Ever being this tired (before)
Before now my eyes were closed to all of the beauty in this world
Jefferson airplane
Im trapped and I am enclosed
But I wont complain
Ill open all the windows
Jefferson airplane
Im trapped and I am enclosed
But I wont complain
Ill open all the windows
Cause when its colder
I feel much better
When I cry on my own shoulder
Ill just throw on a sweater and go
And Ill go to undergo a surgery to purge me of this lonely mood
And my ego, the status quo, provides me with a decent attitude
And Ill go to undergo a change of heart, a change of clothes
And Ill go, oh yes, Ill go and hope the new me shows so everybody knows
That Ive found myself able to fly away without magic feathers or jefferson aero planes
Ive got with me all that I need
song performed by by Relient K
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Work That Body
Drive my car wear my jewels
Make me feel like the king of fools.
Work that body
Work that body
Try not to hurt nobody
David loved Bathsheba, Samson loved Delilah
I love you and your name is Twyla.
Work that body
Work that body
Try not to hurt nobody
Life without love is empty and cruel
Without God's grace I remain a fool.
Work that body
Work that body
Try not to hurt nobody
After death I pray to go to Heaven
For I've been saved since I was eleven.
Work that body
Work that body
Try not to hurt nobody
Life can be short, life can be long
God sees all we do right or wrong.
Work that body
Work that body
Try not to hurt nobody
By Tom Zart
Most Published Poet On The Web!
Tom's 465 Poems Are Free To Share!
By God's Poet
Tom Zart
Most Published Poet
On The Web!
Tom Zart www.internetvoicesradio.com/t_zart/
http: //www.veteranstodayforum.com/viewforum.php? f=38
A Woman Trapped In A Man's Body
ariel suggests that a poem should be written
about a woman trapped in a man's body,
and sometimes one may spell this kind of
trap as a tragedy as mostly projected by
those that claim that the happiest gay is
a dead one. I suppose it is just a matter
of how one sees the best that happens
when one is there. A trap can be a cage,
and to some a cage is a safe home for the
bird who does not bother taking the risk
of flying anymore. A woman loves a man,
and try thinking Ariel, how happy would a
woman be staying inside a man's body?
she makes love to him day and night long.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Woman Trapped In A Man's Body (2)
ariel suggests that a poem should be written
about a woman trapped in a man's body,
and sometimes one may spell this kind of
trap as a tragedy as mostly projected by
those that claim that the happiest gay is
a dead one. I suppose it is just a matter
of how one sees the best that happens
when one is there. A trap can be a cage,
and to some a cage is a safe home for the
bird who does not bother taking the risk
of flying anymore. A woman loves a man,
and try thinking Ariel, how happy would a
woman be staying inside a man's body?
he makes love to her day and night long.
and she caresses him without any tong.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Trapped
Brother john saw visions of god
So they put him in chains
For acting too odd
As the crowd shouted, off with his head
The priest said, have mercy
Lets burn him instead
Trapped
Trapped in a world that he never made
I woke up with my head on the floor
In a windowless cell
A room full of doors
I got lost, now Im so far behind
Took so much advice
Forgot my own mind
Trapped
Trapped in a world that I never made
We cant be slowed down by a big bunch of lip
And nobody cares about your paranoid trip
You know death and the devil sure got it easy today
Souls come so cheap some people give theirs away
Youve got to break out, youve got to prove youre alive
What makes you think that the weak survive
And if you dont have the stomach
For all this radical crap
Then have the guts to stand for something
Or youre gonna be trapped
Trapped
Trapped in a world that you never made
song performed by by Utopia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Peter's Report
Running all the way,
bent double in breathless pain
we peer and see
the gaping grave
open to the rising sun.
Slowly we enter, our eyes sun-blind,
when we see the empty bench,
the bloody cloth cast within.
I try to imagine
how light must have pierced the cloth,
the sudden shudder
of His broken body,
His sharp breath exploding
like a swimmer breaking the surface,
and I notice John’s eyes
outshining the sun,
and my own face
lighting even death's
darkest place!
poem by Steven Federle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Princess and the White Knight
My life is a fairy tale
That’s not as great as it sounds
You see, I’m Cinderella
The lonely princess
Trapped
In a turret
Inside of the castle
In my mind
I am lost
Cold
And alone
No one understands
No one sees this me
Waiting at the window
Watching the destruction
Watching the outside world
Through her little hole
In the turret’s wall
Watching for her prince
I won’t let anyone else in
No one but
Eventually
Him
I am
Secretly
A slave
A slave to their desires
Subject to their punishments
But to the world
I am
A queen
Well, soon-to-be
One step away
From the top of the world
Everything
In the palm of my hand
Well, you see everything
I only see the one thing I’m missing
I only see the empty space
Where I’ve been programmed to believe
That my prince
My white knight
Should be
As a queen I appear
Before the crowd
I smile and wave
Trying to hide the fact
That I’m crying inside
That I’m dying inside
That night
As I lay
Alone in the dark
Sobbing myself to sleep
A soft knock
On the grand wooden door
Startles me back
To harsh reality
My messenger approaches
Bowing, he says
“The white knight approaches.
He is on his way.”
The white knight
My prince
I get all dressed up for him
Oh, how I have longed for him
For a sharp sword to fight for me
And a broad shield to protect me
For a savior
He saved the city to the north
From death and destruction
Stopped the earth from quaking
In the west
The sky from falling
To the east he fought
The darkness back from swallowing the sky
In time,
I believe
He will save me, too
Around midday
The gates burst open
He has been idolized for so long
That the guards recognize his face
He needs no pass to get through
Sword sheathed, helmet on
He enters my hall
The way he moves seems somehow
Familiar
Like I have moved the same way
I begin to praise him
Give him thanks
Beneath the helmet
A female voice rings out
“Do not speak.
You will not silence
My message.”
She reaches up
Removes the protective mask
As I gasp
Looking at her face
The White Knight is me
I am trapped in my castle
By three painful powerful dragons:
My past, present and future?
And only I can save me
As I have rescued everyone else
But I trapped myself in the first place
Beware the White Knights
We do not fight our dragons –
Instead, we train them
So I have retreated to my turret
My little corner of the globe
Returned to my familiar position
Staring out the window
But now the scenery has changed
Or maybe just the eyes
Through which it’s seen
The watery, tear-filled eyes
Of the lonely princess
Who’s finally realized
That no one is coming
She has already lost
Her white knight.
The watery, tear-filled eyes
Of the Cinderella
Who has finally come to the conclusion
That Prince Charming
Does not exist.
The Tale Of The Scorpian And The
Am I going
to cut my cloth
to suit you
is a leopard
going to change
his spots.
poem by Vince Gullaci
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Got To Work Too And Earn My Living
the hours passed
so swiftly
now it is 9: 04 on my watch
i have written
poems
candidly
direct from the mind
to this blank eyes
always staring at me
this dumb monitor
i like to write more
but what can i do?
got to work to and
earn my living
and got to hammer
some more
this mortar and pestle
of this justice
system that
does not really
work....
the Chief Justice
can kill me
but oh well,
this is nothing
but work
and work
and work
and work
nothing to do with justice
but work
nothing personal
(so it is but impersonal)
no eyes
just this blindness
hammer, hammer now
hammer out, hammer in
this gavel
this, oh, well, this bread
of life
this death for some
this escape for you
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Nymph Complaining for the Death of Her Fawn
The wanton troopers riding by
Have shot my fawn, and it will die.
Ungentle men! They cannot thrive
To kill thee. Thou ne'er didst, alive,
Them any harm: alas nor could
Thy death yet do them any good.
I'm sure I never wished them ill,
Nor do I for all this; nor will:
But, if my simple pray'rs may yet
Prevail with Heaven to forget
Thy murder, I will join my tears
Rather than fail. But, O my fears!
It cannot die so. Heaven's King
Keeps register of every thing,
And nothing may we use in vain:
Ev'n beasts must be with justice slain,
Else men are made their deodands.
Though they should wash their guilty hands
In this warm life-blood, which doth part
From thine, and wound me to the heart,
Yet could they not be clean; their stain
Is dyed in such a purple grain.
There is not such another in
The world to offer for their sin.
Unconstant Sylvio, when yet
I had not found him counterfeit,
One morning (I remember well),
Tied in this silver chain and bell,
Gave it to me: nay and I know
What he said then -I'm sure I do.
Said he, "Look how your huntsman here
Hath taught a fawn to hunt his dear."
But Sylvio soon had me beguiled:
This waxed tame, while he grew wild,
And quite regardless of my smart,
Left me his fawn, but took his heart.
Thenceforth I set myself to play
My solitary time away,
With this: and very well content,
Could so mine idle life have spent.
For it was full of sport, and light
Of foot and heart; and did invite
Me to its game: it seemed to bless
Itself to me. How could I less
Than love it? O I cannot be
Unkind t' a beast that loveth me.
Had it lived long, I do not know
Whether it too might have done so
As Sylvio did: his gifts might be
Perhaps as false or more than he.
But I am sure, for aught that I
Could in so short a time espy,
Thy love was far more better then
The love of false and cruel men.
With sweetest milk and sugar first
I it at mine own fingers nursed.
And as it grew, so every day
It waxed more white and sweet than they.
It had so sweet a breath! And oft
I blushed to see its foot more soft
And white (shall I say?) than my hand -
Nay, any lady's of the land!
It is a wond'rous thing how fleet
'Twas on those little silver feet;
With what a pretty skipping grace
It oft would challenge me the race;
And when 't had left me far away,
'Twould stay, and run again, and stay.
For it was nimbler much than hinds;
And trod as if on the four winds.
I have a garden of my own,
But so with roses overgrown
And lilies, that you would it guess
To be a little wilderness;
And all the spring-time of the year
It only loved to be there.
Among the beds of lilies I
Have sought it oft, where it should lie,
Yet could not, till itself would rise,
Find it, although before mine eyes;
For in the flaxen lilies' shade,
It like a bank of lilies laid.
Upon the roses it would feed,
Until its lips ev'n seemed to bleed:
And then to me 'twould boldly trip,
And print those roses on my lip.
But all its chief delight was still
On roses thus itself to fill,
And its pure virgin limbs to fold
In whitest sheets of lilies cold.
Had it lived long, it would have been
Lilies without, roses within.
O help! O help! I see it faint
And die as calmly as a saint!
See how it weeps! The tears do come
Sad, slowly dropping like a gum.
So weeps the wounded balsam; so
The holy frankincense doth flow;
The brotherless Heliades
Melt in such amber tears as these.
I in a golden vial will
Keep these two crystal tears; and fill
It till it do o'erflow with mine,
Then place it in Diana's shrine.
Now my sweet fawn is vanished to
Whither the swans and turtles go:
In fair Elysium to endure,
With milk-white lambs and ermins pure.
O do not run too fast, for I
Will but bespeak thy grave, and die.
First, my unhappy statue shall
Be cut in marble; and withal
Let it be weeping too: but there
Th' engraver sure his art may spare;
For I so truly thee bemoan
That I shall weep though I be stone,
Until my tears, still dropping, wear
My breast, themselves engraving there.
There at my feet shalt thou be laid,
Of purest alabaster made;
For I would have thine image be
White as I can, though not as thee.
poem by Andrew Marvell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Judgement
In a death-trap of a stadium,
as if I am stoned to death.
Chrysanthemums bloomed in vain.
On your body three beasts climbed
for ravaging a fawn.
The rape was only your fault,
you had to die.
When a crowd of thousand bystanders
came to watch your mutilated body,
you had left for home,
uncrying and bleeding.
A human soul,
undefended.
Now a script will be protected.
Stones leap to praise the ghosts.
poem by Satish Verma
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A Naked Ape!
Imagine if a Llama wore pajamas
or a Leopard put a cap upon his head.
Just think about a kangaroo in trousers
or a sheep all shorn in little skirt and vest.
Most animals would look a tad alarming
in any sort of formal wear or cloth,
but take a human being wearing nothing
now that would be quite shocking at the shops.
Imagine you or I, all bare and naked,
no underwear, no trousers and no socks.
Our faces would turn pink to think about it
but a monkey really couldn't give a toss.
poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A visit to the Museum
On a sultry evening we took our son to the museum
To show him the wild animals that so far we have been showing him through the kid-land charts and posters and animal planet
There were three four varieties of macaque monkeys, peacocks and fowls, buffaloes, one lion, two tigers, some pale pelicans and strokes, a large number of amber colored deer, and three elephants, few buffaloes and bears, some other pale birds and snakes and other fowls
Each cage has got a description and a sign board
Himalayan bear
Bear enclosure inaugurated by Mr. /Mrs.(name of a minister)
Then the species description
So many such pits and pens were there, instated and commissioned by ministers and delegates
It is the time when ministers are minters.
We shut these innocent savages,
These creepy –crawly reptiles in the cages,
And label them wild animals,
They will roar, shout, bellow and eat raw flesh
disparity between the bipolarities,
black and white, animal and human
Black is a shade of brown and so is white –Updike said so
Animal is there in man, isn’t it?
Then, why we keep them in pit and pen?
To call them wild beasts.
Then who are we?
Don’t we shout, clamour, hoot and hiss.
A little kid
I wished to be little kid
Mother’s hand to feed
Father to lift with strong hand
Brother to throw me in open sand
To stand up on feet with great courage
Little steps forward but unable to manage
Desire to grow fast with total disregard to age
Still safe under shed but not meant to be in cage
It is safe world for all times to come
Everybody to shake hand with warm welcome
All needs to be met at short notice
I felt it amusing and very nice
To run after mother step by step
To be pushed in corner with tying of trap
No nuisance of any kind simple tolerated
Simple movements revealed and narrated
Youth has lost al its charm
Child days were very warm
It has its own charismatic value
You get everything even when not due
I would love to live again
As child to be with family main
What a days to be spent with complete joy?
it was nice to spent it with different toys
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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I Have Money
I have money from some grief
Yet forces work when I am awake
I sleep gorgeously as I am a chief
Let flowers grow with some ache
Yet forces work when I am awake
The growth of the body does relate
Let flowers grow with some ache
How do single cells just abate?
The growth of the body does relate
I am an aging man who does wait
How do single cells just abate?
My ruination is then to demonstrate
I am an aging man who does wait
I sleep gorgeously as I am a chief
My ruination is then to demonstrate
I have money from some grief
poem by Naveed Akram
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The House Of Dust: Part 02: 05: Retrospect
Round white clouds roll slowly above the housetops,
Over the clear red roofs they flow and pass.
A flock of pigeons rises with blue wings flashing,
Rises with whistle of wings, hovers an instant,
And settles slowly again on the tarnished grass.
And one old man looks down from a dusty window
And sees the pigeons circling about the fountain
And desires once more to walk among those trees.
Lovers walk in the noontime by that fountain.
Pigeons dip their beaks to drink from the water.
And soon the pond must freeze.
The light wind blows to his ears a sound of laughter,
Young men shuffle their feet, loaf in the sunlight;
A girl's laugh rings like a silver bell.
But clearer than all these sounds is a sound he hears
More in his secret heart than in his ears,—
A hammer's steady crescendo, like a knell.
He hears the snarl of pineboards under the plane,
The rhythmic saw, and then the hammer again,—
Playing with delicate strokes that sombre scale . . .
And the fountain dwindles, the sunlight seems to pale.
Time is a dream, he thinks, a destroying dream;
It lays great cities in dust, it fills the seas;
It covers the face of beauty, and tumbles walls.
Where was the woman he loved? Where was his youth?
Where was the dream that burned his brain like fire?
Even a dream grows grey at last and falls.
He opened his book once more, beside the window,
And read the printed words upon that page.
The sunlight touched his hand; his eyes moved slowly,
The quiet words enchanted time and age.
'Death is never an ending, death is a change;
Death is beautiful, for death is strange;
Death is one dream out of another flowing;
Death is a chorded music, softly going
By sweet transition from key to richer key.
Death is a meeting place of sea and sea.'
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Black men, White men
should i be led to believe
that the white men's heart
is soft as cotton? and when
touched, is torched, bursts into flame
to settle comfortably in black,
a trail of humble lesson for the soul
should i be led to believe
that a black man's heart is
full of courage? charging like a bull
through America black or white
settling for nothing in between?
should i be led to believe that
black and white work the
theory of ying and yang
ever balancing to rev up the world?
rice would even grow in bush
black hair turns eventually into
a crown of white wisdom
and blackboards light up
knowledge in white chalk
white shines at its best in black
and where else but a piece of white
where black could make its clearest stamp
of its stand - left or right, right or wrong
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Felines
Look at the leopard. He is all peppered
with spots from his head to his toe.
His body is sleek and his eyes do shine
and he's ferocious when stalking his foe.
Look at the lion. He's no dandelion.
In the jungle he's King of the beasts.
He's courageous and strong and prowls like a cat
to find his food and then feasts.
Look at the tiger. He can spring higher
than most of the cats you'll see.
His coat is all tawny or sometimes stark white
with stripes that are black ebony.
Look at the cheetah. Be fast or he'll eat ya.
You won't have much time to escape.
He's faster than lightning with legs that are long.
It seems that he's always in shape.
Look at the panther. He's not any fancier
than the rest of the cats that there are.
But the coat that he wears is midnight black,
a black that's the color of tar.
Look at the cat that lives where you are,
the one that can purr and can mew.
They say he has nine lives and I doubt that he does.
But, the one that he lives is for you.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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