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you begin your story about the birds
walking on telephone wires
or are they just there holding on
with their lives
intact with the clouds at their
claws and beaks
and then you tell your story
about a man walking on top of the water
and the many ways you can really do
it like some miracles they all remember
jesus!
i cannot be beaten. i write a poem
about a drifter who names his two kids
clouds and fog
i bring a cat for you to see to listen
to its paws
how silent they are.
like a cloud. like a fog on the harbor of the city
this crap about Robert
frost. we know them.
so please do not tell me again that it was you
who walk on top of the water
and i will not tell you about my kind of kid
poetry, cat's paws and harbors and fogs
and the silence in my room that i have chosen
as a delicacy for your
kind of escape, to the windmills, and to Miguel
his pony and his Spanish
prison.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Pads, Paws And Claws
Shes a feline tormentor, not any vaudeville wife
But with a drunk-town lament he leads her a miserable life
But when hes full of that beer-champagne
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
And if he should wake up in some terrible dive
And he dont know if hes so-so
But hes so surprised hes alive
"come on little honey, let me under your hive"
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
She pads, pads around the bedroom, practicing ways to flirt
He paws, pours another drink and anything in a skirt
Anything wearing a necklace
He thinks of claws scratching his back hes
Going out there hes not coming back
Shes got spider-leg fingers, sharpened whenever he strays
And she carries a bird-purse, with all of her womanly ways
til hes drinking hairspray, she knows that he never would dare
She could be in pictures if she wasnt all covered in fur
Hes coming home now and heres the surprise
You wouldnt believe the lies that he tries
She cut him down to her favourite size
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pads, Paws & Claws
Shes a feline tormentor, not any vaudeville wife
But with a drunk-town lament he leads her a miserable life
But when hes full of that beer-champagne
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
And if he should wake up in some terrible dive
And he dont know if hes so-so
But hes so surprised hes alive
Come on little honey, let me under your hive
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
She pads, pads around the bedroom, practicing ways to flirt
He paws, pours another drink and anything in a skirt
Anything wearing a necklace
He thinks of claws scratching his back hes
Going out there hes not coming back
Shes got spider-leg fingers, sharpened whenever he strays
And she carries a bird-purse, with all of her womanly ways
til hes drinking hairspray, she knows that he never would dare
She could be in pictures if she wasnt all covered in fur
Hes coming home now and heres the surprise
You wouldnt believe the lies that he tries
She cut him down to her favourite size
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Walking Man
Moving in silent desperation
Keeping an eye on the holy land
A hypothetical destination
Say, who is this waliking man?
Well, the leaves have come to turning
And the goose has gone to fly
And bridges are for buning
So dont you let that yearning
Pass you by
Walking man, walking man walks
Well, any other man stops and talks
But the walking man walks
Well the frost is on the pumpkin
And the hay is in the barn
An pappys come to rambling on
Stumbling around drunk
Down on the farm
And the walking man walks
Doesnt know nothing at all
Any other man stops and talks
But the walking man walks on by
Walk on by
Most everybodys got seed to sow
It aint always easy for a weed to grow, oh no
So he dont hoe the row for no one
Oh for sure hes always missing
And something is never quite right
Ah, but who would want to listen to you
Kissing his existence good night
Walking man walk on by my door
Well, any other man stops and talks
But not the walking man
Hes the walking man
Born to walk
Walk on walking man
Well now, would he have wings to fly
Would he be free
Golden wings against the sky
Walking man, walk on by
So long, walking man, so long
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Walking Away
Never thought to ever think twice
Of all he had
Of all he lost
A selfish life
and guess comes with the cost
Hey, remember me
I remember you walking away
Hey, remember me
I remember you walking away
The same old streets just a different name
Same old house just the family's changed
Pickett fence
The window stains
Freedom spells by a man in chains
Silence is all we have to give
And the memories of a life I wish we'd lived
Hey, remember me
I remember you walking away
Hey, remember me
I remember you walking away
From all that you made
That you lost
or threw away
Traded in for a brand new life
But I can't
Can't let go
Can't turn around
Hold my head high and walk away
Hey, remember me
I remember you walking away
Hey, remember me
I remember you walking away
song performed by by Lifehouse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Walking In A Dream
We walk together, but in silence
I want to say something,
And even you want to say something,
We both struggle to say something,
But we are just walking in a dream.
We think of each other,
And dream of each other
Our thinking is a feeling out of each other
We walk in a dream and we are
Just walking in a dream.
Walking without talking,
Waht kind of dream is this,
But still we walk together
Without saying a word, by obscuring
Silence,
We continue walking in a dream.
poem by Rajesh Kumar Vaishnaw
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Endless Walk
walking cold to the bone in the rain
wind cuts like a knife in my skin
water drips off my face i look around to see
it's just me walking in the rain, my mind is full of clouds
i start to wonder why does it rain, why am i walking, how long has it been raining, how long have i been walking...
i look at my wrist to see there's no watch
i reach for my pocket to feel there's no pocket
except strings of fibers, fibers are all thats left
from what used to be clothing
my skin looks pale and is full of scars
i fall down on my knees it terrifies me to see the reflection in the puddle of water this is not the face i remember as my own
i stand up only to realise the street is not there
it's just a dark floor
i look around there's a wall on both sides
i look up to scream there's no sound only water that fills my eyes
before i can make sense of it my body starts to move
i'm walking again, where am i going, why can't i stop
poem by Paddy Jansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Now That The Year Is Growing Kind Of Old (Envelope Couplet Sestets)
Now that the year is growing kind of old
when the true story of Jesus we are told,
we are living up to a day of giving
while daily we hear joyful birds singing
as when they did that child once behold,
now that the year is growing kind of old.
Now that the year is growing kind of old
our Christian faith we do at times uphold
while to others we bring some happiness
like messengers of God we try to bless,
sing happy songs on each friendly threshold,
now that the year is growing kind of old.
Now that the year is growing kind of old
while some live sheltered in a stronghold
in a world of chaos there is tranquillity,
when in God we find some serenity,
in our own lives we act cheerful and bold,
now that the year is growing kind of old.
Now that the year is growing kind of old
in our lives God’s blessings are manifold,
while merrily bells do jingle and chime,
we tell of loving that goes past all time,
we celebrate Christmas in each household,
now that the year is growing kind of old.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On The Wings And Claws And Beaks Of Poetry
lame, i walk on the crutches
of poetry,
wingless, i put on the feathers
of words,
i get these beaks
of metaphors
to feed upon
the richness of meaning
i am a hundred birds
on a hundred wings
i have claws and beaks
and eagles' eyes
on the flights
of the madness of poetry
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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House Pets
THE white cat is sleeping by the fire,
With her paws tucked under her chin,
Very tame and gentle she is sleeping
Whom I saw but now come in,
Come in from the dark night and the wild wood,
A hunter with her prey she came,
And her chin and her little paws were bloody,
And she was not kind and tame,
But wild and strong and cruel with her victim,
For she let it go, and caught it as it ran,
And she tossed it in the air and danced about it,
And once she stood erect like a man.
And I thought, 'What wild things are they that we harbor,
Who bend to the routine of daily life; '
And I looked across the room and by the fire
I saw my sleeping wife.
poem by Alice Duer Miller
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mushrooms
I was with my girlfriend
This is [? ? ] florida
She took me to this place
It had al kind of things growing
She gave me something
It was a mushroom
She said eat it, she said.
A mushroom, what is that?
She said eat it.
I dont think she [? ? ]
Shes kind of a wild girl
I dont think she was that wild
So i, I ate the mushroom
And I said it doesnt taste like much
She said wait a minute
So I waited a minute
I waited a few minutes
- filter -
And the next thing I know, I was walking on clouds
There were beautiful clouds
And my girlfriend was talking to me
While I was walking on the clouds
And everything felt beautiful
I almost felt like I didnt have any feet,
No floor under me
It was beautiful
We looked in each other eyes.
On top of these clouds
And we were talking with each other
With our mouths wide open
And all of a sudden
She let me go
But I didnt fall,
I floated, but I was far away from her.
Until the next thing I know she wasnt there,
Knows by myself.
And I was on gras again
- begin of track 6 -
Very soft gras
I walked to the gras (4x)
song performed by by Faithless
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two Female Bears
42 of the youths were eaten by two female bears,
Of a story in a sheep-raising land;
But, you use to pour water into my hands.
Today you are King in that area and,
You need to do a lot to save the rest of the children;
And do give ears to my poems when i do write.
The earth shook and the clouds poured down water,
But i am at Mount Tabor with my words;
Silence in heaven! !
To cast out fire on earth like rain,
But i am still alive to write this poem.
To a land flowing with milk and honey,
'Ahyah Asher Ahyah'!
I am who i am on this poem and,
You are a King in the land of the lost souls.
Of a tree days journey into the desert to cry for the dead,
You are what you are as the new King over there;
But the bears should be put under control.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poems Became The Story Of My Inner Life
THE POEMS BECAME THE STORY OF MY INNER LIFE
The poems became the story of my inner life-
A series of confessions-
Often simple and direct
They seemed to lose their poetry-
I wrote them and I write them as I need to
I do not know if their rhythm is real
Or only prose-
I write them as poetry
Because this is what I am and have now-
Still the overwhelming anxiety I have now suggests
I always in them tell only a small part of the story
As if the feeling inside
Is always more than any poetry that pretends to express and represent it –
If I doubt the value of this poem and doubt the value of all my poetry and doubt my own value, poetry or not, and doubt and doubt-
Then certainly ‘doubt’ is one keynote of my inner life and story.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stoned
It was a mid night knock.
A cloud laden sky
had sent a message.
The moon was trembling
like a collateral pain
in the blue.
I had not slept the night,
if I could bleed.
A toddler had drowned head-on
in a half-filled bucket
and some rodents had sheared
away the toes and ears of a sick child.
You give me hurts, for glassy eyes.
The claws on my neck,
I can hardly breathe.
The severed paws and intact canines
of a skull morph into a roaring beast.
There is no water in my eyes.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Never Ending Story Theme Song
Search around, look at what you see,
In her face, the mirror of your dreams,
Make believe I'm everywhere, hidden in the lines
Written on the pages is the answer to our neverending story
Neverending story
Reach the stars, and fly a fantasy,
Dream a dream, and what you see will be,
Lives that keep their secrets will unfold behind the clouds
And there upon the rainbow is the answer to our neverending story
Neverending story
Story
Neverending story
Show no fear, for she may fade away,
In your hand, the birth of a new day,
Lives that keep their secrets will unfold behind the clouds
And there upon the rainbow is the answer to our neverending story
(3x)
Neverending story
song performed by by New Found Glory
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Look Me Over Closely
look me over closely
tell me what you see
the lady likes to look her best
before she pours the tea
you said I'm ????
that makes the evening sun go down
oh look me over closely
tell me what you find
but don't be over anxious
I'm not the marryin' kind
I'm a poor in a storm
you'll harbor where it's warm
in my arms you will hide
from the great big world outside
oh but when you come and see me
don't try to change my ways
you'll have a part within my heart
and there you'll always stay
there's room for all
not for all
but don't blame me
if you fall
so look me over closely
and then make up your mind
but darling please remember this
I'm holding you before we kiss
so look me over closely
because I may be the marryin' kind
oh well I may be the marryin' kind
oh well I may be the marryin' kind
oh
song performed by by White Stripes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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American Sketches
CROSSING KANSAS BY TRAIN
The telephone poles
Have been holding their
Arms out
A long time now
To birds
That will not
Settle there
But pass with
Strange cawings
Westward to
Where dark trees
Gather about a
Water hole this
Is Kansas the
Mountains start here
Just behind
The closed eyes
Of a farmer’s
Sons asleep
In their work clothes
POEM TO BE READ AT 3 A.M.
Excepting the diner
On the outskirts
The town of Ladora
At 3 A.M.
Was dark but
For my headlights
And up in
One second-story room
A single light
Where someone
Was sick or
Perhaps reading
As I drove past
At seventy
Not thinking
This poem
Is for whoever
Had the light on
poem by Donald Justice
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The small writer
As I walk on Guido Gezelle’s birth ground,
Bruges, a city full of people is spread around me,
there’s a small boat with sails flapping in the wind,
cathedrals and channels are everywhere, a place where you can love
and in a channel there’s something small circling
dressed in black armoured skin
but maybe it’s only my imagination
comprehending secret words written on the water surface
and when I look up into the sky
there are clouds closing
and suddenly it’s as if the clouds open
with His great presence coming down,
I have to cover my eyes against the bright light
and I see a water beetle drawing the names of God on the water.
[Reference: Het Schrijverke by Guido Gezelle. Bruges is a city in Belgium.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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From Where I Stand I See The Silent Tomorrow
tomorrow comes
on small
silent feet
like a cat
from a window
overlooking
a harbor
gently,
the clouds drift
the mist and frost
slowly gone
and what the cat
sees
is the sun
smiling
and the cat
remembers her mother
the one that feeds
her with pink mice
and
sharper claws
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tell Me A Story
Tell me a story that isn't gory
tell me a story that isn't fake
tell me a story where you made a mistake
tell me a story where the cows come home
tell me a story I want to know
tell me a story where the princess finds herself
not a prince who is more like an elf.
Tell me a story that I can laugh out loud
tell me a story where storm makes lighting clouds.
For in the end we only have our stories to tell
what make them funny, give them hell.
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tell Me A Story
Tell me a story that isn't gory
tell me a story that isn't fake
tell me a story where you made a mistake
tell me a story where the cows come home
tell me a story I want to know
tell me a story where the princess finds herself
not a prince who is more like an elf.
Tell me a story that I can laugh out loud
tell me a story where storm makes lighting clouds.
For in the end we only have our stories to tell
what make them funny, give them hell.
poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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