En.Citatepedia^®.ro

A.s.1

while waiting you
make a poem dedicating
it to patience since
you cannot curse the one
who is always late for
your appointment
and then when she arrives
you close your ears
for all the
usual excuses

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Waiting 2

Waiting is a curse
we all have to endure.
Every minute seems
to stretch itself into five
and the five into ten
and so forth and so on.

Waiting is like a time bomb,
the more you wait
the more the ticks get louder.
You get restless,
as it seems to drag on
and on and on.

Patience is a virtue,
but waiting is a killer
drawing out your frustration
and shortening your temper
as our calm and collect feelings go.

Waiting can turn into boredom
when there seems
nothing else you can do.
Waiting is a curse
that all of us have to endure
until it is over.

13 April 2012

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Get Away From Me

Let me help you find some clarity.
In terms of my personality...
And why you say others,
May get upset with me!

First let's eliminate what others say.
I am discussing this with you.
I could care less what others say,
And/or do!

If I've given you my respect and attention.
And I have given you no reason to doubt my word.
Don't show me that you have taken me for granted.
Don't allow yourself to get on my last nerve.

When that is done,
I become someone else.
I show a side that comes out of hiding.
I've been called a monster by those who have seen it.
Those who say I am two faced and crazed.

But I respect myself and that I show to others.
And take pride in what I do,
Like others should too.
I don't collect excuses and alibis to make.
And those who do,
I consider fake!

So without further explanation,
Let me make to you this declaration.
You have no more time,
To waste that of mine!
Now...
Have I made myself clear?
I hope so!

'Yeah...
But everybody else,
Don't make such a big stink about me being late!
And everytime I was late or didn't show up for a date,
I gave you a call! '

And every year I have known you...
Which has been over twenty five.
You have managed to use excuses,
And have told me some of the biggest lies!

And if you had respected me at all...
You would not have found it easy to make excuses.
Or bothered to lie in any of those calls.
And everyone else who accepts that from you...
Didn't receive this patience I am giving.
Or that 'monster' getting ready to chew and spew!
You know why?

'No!
Why? '

I'm giving you the opportunity,
To get away from me as fast as you can!
You see my chest?
And how I'm taking deep breaths?
The monster comes!
You better prepare to run!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dedicated

This is dedicated to my favorite girl
Oh... oh... oh... oh...
Oh... oh... oh... oh...
Oh... oh... oh...
Oh... oh... oh... oh...
Oh... oh... oh... oh...
Oh... oh... oh... oh...
Oh... oh... oh...
Ho... oh... oh...
Ooh... ooh... ooh... ooh... ooh... yeah
Ooh... ooh... ooh... ooh... ooh... ooh... ooh...
Ooh... ooh... ooh... ooh... ooh...
Favorite girl, hey
You have given me the best of you
And you have made my dreams come true, yeah
And after all the things that you have done
Girl, it makes me say that you are more than a woman, so I'm
Dedicating this one (Oh) to my favorite girl (She's the only one)
She's the only woman in the whole wide world (In the whole wide world)
Dedicating this one (Oh, I'm) to my favorite girl
(She's the only woman in the world for me)
Never thought that love could be so kind
Till you came and brought me peace of mind
I'll treasure every moment spent with you
Cause no one does the things for me you do, so I'm
Dedicating this one (Oh) to my favorite girl (She's the only one)
She's the only (Ooh... ooh... ooh... ) woman in the whole wide world (In the whole wide world)
Dedicating this one (Oh, yeah) to my favorite girl
(She's the only woman in the world, world, woo)
Oh... oh... oh... oh... oh... oh... oh...
Ooh... ooh... ooh... ooh...
Oh... oh...
So I'm
Dedicating this one (To) to my favorite girl (My favorite girl)
She's the only woman (Oh, yeah) in the whole wide world (In the whole wide world)
Dedicating this one (Oh... ) to my favorite girl (She's my favorite girl)
(The only one in the world, whoa... )
Dedicating this one (I'm dedicating this one to my favorite girl, yeah) to

song performed by by R. Kelly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Waiting In Boredom

Waiting in boredom
for something to get done
is the greatest enemy
to a very active mind.

It is the curse that affects us all,
making us lose our patience
over the simplest tasks
we have to perform.

Waiting in boredom
eats away at our soul
making time drag
within everything we try to do.

It is the curse of humankind
of which there is no cure,
just to be patient
and wait to see it through.

2 July 2010

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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With Patience Waiting

I am waiting.
With patience.
Because I have been told,
That's what one with patience does.

And as I sit with patience waiting,
I contemplate with a premeditation done...
Thinking if I lost my patience,
Who would know I had it to lose?

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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0026 The other poetry

It could be tomorrow.
Or the day after.
The important thing will be
that you’ll know when it happens that
it’s what you’ve been waiting for
perhaps all your life
you’ll go out of the door as usual
at the usual time
but instead of turning right
you’ll turn left
just that
and then it will unfold
like someone else’s life
and you’ll talk to different people,
listen differently
see differently
and then find yourself writing
in a quite different way
perhaps even in a strange language
about emotions you never had before

deep down, it’s always been whispering
no singing, in your ear
like when you were a child
and there they were behind you but
you could never turn round quick enough
to catch them. The other poetry
you never wrote but you know it’s there
maybe waiting for you
maybe waiting for someone else
but there. So close.
Maybe one day.
Or the day after.

poem by Michael Shepherd
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0377 Should be, but

I should be writing a poem
about those small wisps of white cloud
moving unusually fast across a blue blue sky
on their way to somewhere else
as if they're late for an appointment.

I should be writing a poem
about the way the breeze is so gentle
that it seems to have a secret plan with the sun
and the new green leaves
to do something quite extraordinary.

I should be writing a poem
about the way that the trailing geranium leaves
are giving out a scent more white than green
more heavenly than any thought.

I should be writing a poem
about the way that the purple and blue and yellow and white flowers
seem to say nothing but beauty.

I should be writing a poem
but all I can do is gaze in amazement
at what I've seen before
and never seen before.

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Its Not Too Late

Gently rolling father time
Is calling to him now,
And though he hears him
He looks out to sea.
Somewhere out there lie his dreams
A story with no ending
And till he finds his answers
He wont be going nowhere
For him, its not too late
Its not too late
For some its never too late
Quietly knocking on her door.
He patiently stands waiting,
And though she hears him
She sits steadfast in her chair.
Somewhere out there never seen
Her hopes and dreams lie waiting,
And till she finds an answer
She wont be going nowhere
For her, its not too late
Its not too late
For some its never too late
For everything we know thats certain
There is much we cannot see,
So we choose to close the curtain,
Never knowing what could have been
Its not too late, its not too late, never too late
Slowly rocking the babys bed
He strokes its head and whispers
And though it hears him,
It keeps smiling and kicks its feet
Somewhere out there is a life,
A lifetime made for living
So it holds on fast, it aint going nowhere
For some its not too late,
Its not too late
For some its never too late
For some its not too late
Its not too late
For some its never too late

song performed by by Phil Collins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Curse

What if for you, I could place a curse
Upon your enemy to make his life worse
To have him suffer both in pain and woe
Wouldn't you be happy, if I would do so,
If you like it, I could cause him to lose his hair
Or I could have him believe GOD is not there
I could rip out his tongue so he could never speak
Then asking for help, he could never seek,
Wouldn't you be happy if I would curse your foe
Just nod your head and I will strike the blow
I will cause him suffering and I will give him pain
He will lose all that he has and he will go insane,
I could close his ears so he could not hear
So he couldn't hear the joy, but see only the tear
If you ask me I could even curse his arm
And the one that he had left he could do no harm,
I could even curse him to lose his leg
Wouldn't you be happy to see him crawl and beg
I could even blind him so he will not see again
Then I could make him angry and cause him to sin,
Just tell me what type of curse you'd like it to be
And happily I will place it upon your enemy
If you would like it, I could have him dead
But only if you asked me for a curse on his head.
Then I looked upon evils ugly face
I shook my head with pity and utter disgrace
As for your offer presented to me, it I will shun
And for enemies and foes, thank GOD I choose none.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
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Sonnet: Patience

Wait for thy day, hour, opportunity;
Things don’t happen always as per scheduled;
Patience’s, a magical ability;
Than when hot, a man can do more when cooled.

Patience pays the user rich dividends!
The more one waits, the more will be returns;
The cracks in mind of revenge, patience mends;
Reward is sure before they take thine urns.

Wait on and on but seize thy golden chance,
That seldom knocks doors of a waiting heart;
Patience is asset when you time your dance;
If ill-chosen, it capsizes life’s cart.

Remarkable is Patience in man’s craft,
That works wonders, tho’ late in every art.

poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cut and Separate Quick to Split

There are those who believe themselves chosen,
To hold up the process of one's life.

They are the ones who elect to be understood...
With no comprehension or faith to do things.
Not the way they should be done.
Unless they have a say...
In which way they decide,
What has to be done for them is right.
And something that initiates,
A feeling of false pride.

Even though what gets done,
Is at a time that arrives too late for some.
With an expectation for others they delay...
Should sit and wait with a patience,
That has become frayed.
Strained and frazzled.

Or...
They wish to debate uselessly,
Over that which should have taken place.
And wasting as much time as they can,
To be understood!
'For goodness sake!

I am not the cause for this reaction! '

When folks like this,
Began to flaunt excuses to abuse and disrespect...
Never acknowledge what it is that they do,
Because from you they will determine...
You have become accustomed to their neglect!
And from you expect apologies.

Sever yourself from these kinds of people.
Cut and separate quick to split...
From this addicting BS.
And have none of it!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Patience To Perfect The Poem

THE PATIENCE TO PERFECT THE POEM

The patience to perfect the poem-
Escaped me.
Driven always to
More and more,
Unrestrained and unrefined
I left behind
Too many
Shoddy lines.
Now in my old age
I write again one more poem
I soon will go on from.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poem Is Just A Poem

a poem is just a poem and if it is just a poem
it must be just a poem just like another poem

a poem is nothing but just a poem otherwise
it cannot be my poem; it may speak about

anything, or something, or about everything,
but my poem is just a poem just like anybody's

poem, which is just but a poem, like any other
poem, for a poem to be a poem it must just be

a poem: it has nothing to do with my love, and death
my life, or bliss, but as i have told you, once, twice

thrice, eat some rice, and be that wise, a poem is
just a poem, just like your poem. Why do you insist

on asking, what is happening to me? I am not a
poem, for i am but just the composer of the poem,

need i tell you again, that a poem is just a poem?
just like any other poem, which is just a poem

it is just a voice in my head that i have heard
someone comes and speaks and i listen so

this poem is not actually my poem but the poem
of someone else's: theirs not mine, from a mind.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Excuses

Yo, whats up, this is Ginuwine
And I wanna tell you
It aint no time for excuses with your woman
You be right or you be out, ya heard
Do it right, check this is out
This is my story
Theres a time that comes in a mans life
When is real, want it all, when his mind is right
It could come at any time, morning, noon or night
You would know at the time, nothing more to fight
He might not, and I know cause Ive done the same
You know Im right there with you, dog, but she wont
play the game
She will be done packed your bags, sit em all there
right outside your door
Cause shes tired of the lyin s*** and she aint
takin no more, oh, no she aint
Excuses (Everybody has one)
Excuses (She dont wanna hear them no more, oh)
Excuses (She said take that s*** elsewhere)
Excuses (She dont wanna hear no), excuses {She dont}
Excuses (She aint got time for them)
Excuses (So dont fill her mind with them, no)
Excuses (She said take that s*** elsewhere)
Excuses (She dont wanna hear no), excuses {She dont}
Take her out, hold her hand, let her know youll die
for her
Cause thats your lady, yes, thats your baby
Shes a seed, feed her well, watch her blossom out
And only the real players out there can dig what Im
talkin bout
Be that man, be that one, do the things she loves
Pay attention, should I mention how it all was once
You broke your neck just to get her, dont you pull
back now
Cause sooner or later shell be gone, what youre
askin now
Excuses (Everybody has one)
Excuses (But she dont wanna hear them no more, oh, no
she dont)
Excuses (She said take that s*** elsewhere)
Excuses (Oh...), excuses {She dont}
Excuses (Yeah, she)
Excuses (Dont fill her mind)
Excuses (She said take that s*** else, oh, yes, she
did)
Excuses, excuses (Listen) {She dont}
Dont fake nor front, tell her now
Make your choice right now
Tell her where you stand
Youre no boy or little kid, youre grown
Standin big, young man
Think what brought that in, ooh
All that s*** youre talkin bout like you aint
heard the phone
Shes up on it, dog, shes up on it, dog
And all that fake s*** like your beeper was off
Shes up on it, dog, shes up on it, dog (Ooh...)
Excuses (Everybody gots one)
Excuses (She dont wanna hear them)
Excuses (She said take that s*** elsewhere)
Excuses, excuses {She dont} (She dont)
Excuses (She aint got time for them)
Excuses (So dont fill her mind with them)
Excuses (Huh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no)
Excuses (No, no, no), excuses {She dont} (She dont
wanna)
Excuses (She dont wanna hear no excuses)
Excuses (Ooh, she dont wanna)
Excuses (Come on)
Excuses (She dont wanna hear them), excuses {She
dont}
Excuses (She aint got time, huh, she dont feel them)
Excuses (Ooh, ooh, she dont deserve)
Excuses (No, huh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no)
Excuses, excuses (She dont wanna) {She dont}
Excuses

song performed by by Ginuwine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Late Night Poem

THE LATE- NIGHT POEM

The late- night poem
Is a tired poem
It wants to sleep,
But it has not done what it should do-
Once it is written
It can go to rest.

The late- night poem
Is not a real poem,
Nothing is,
Not tonight,
In all this tiredness.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Too Late

See the stop-light turn-in red,
Dont you listen to what its said.
All the things you try to hide,
They keep you runnin hard inside.
Oh, you got to leave this town before its...
Too late, too late, too late, too late, too late,
Too late to make the change.
Oo, yes, my friend, youre fadin fast, if you stay here you wont last.
Before your time has run astray, youve got to try to get away.
Oh, you got to leave this place before its...
Too late, too late, too late, too late, too late,
Too late to make the change.
Too late, too late to make the change
Too late to make the change
Yes, its time to make the change, yes, its time to rearrange,
So, my friend, I join the fight for the things you know are right.
Oh, you got to leave this town before its...
Too late, too late, too late, too late, too late,
Too late to make the change.
Too late, too late to make the change
Too late, too late, to make the change
Too late to make the change
Too late, before its too late.

song performed by by Journey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Morning Greeting

good morning, my friend

hope you're fine like the smooth morning rays of the sun
on soft hands caressing the shiny brown skin of my face

did you sleep well last night? let me ask if you have dreams
that make waking up a regretful event

i am out now for my usual walk to see the usual rising of the sun
on the golden ricefields on the road leading to a group of nipa huts

i am asking myself today: is there meaning to this usualness
this routine that comes to us without any break?
is there something new to the sun that we always expect to shine?
is there a twist to the usual chirps of birds, the usual white color of their wings? is there something better to do than walk and think the usual
thoughts of how to make a living and be the fit person to survive

this war on boredome
this struggle for meaning
this monotonous routine of this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that

there is no stuttering here, nothing symptomatic of sickness
and even death, there is this boredom again that will make us

not sleep the nights
and make us uneasy and restless and asking some more

what is this life? what is it giving me?
what am i giving it? how long?

just asking, i am returning to the house from this short walk
there is no music in my ears
more questions popping

i will just take tea
i need really to pee.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Making Those Choices To Do

Choices made are just the beginning,
For other choices to make.
Leaving an appetite to develop,
In a patience where choices sit to marinate

Procrastinating in hesitation,
Makes for the creating of excuses...
Easier to get nothing done to wait.
Like one who wishes for a taste of cake.

However, making those choices to do...
Does remove those excuses made done,
With no follow through.
And pursued as one's destination that comes.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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This Poem

THIS POEM

This poem
This first poem
This last poem
This poem that invented Poetry
This one and only one poem
This fictional poem
This ideal poem
This perfect poem
This would – be holy poem
This unreal poem
This poem which is not a poem
This poem which is the essence of all poetry
This poem
And that poem
And my poem
And your poem
And all poems
Poem poem poem poem poem
This poem
Mine and yours
This one small poem of so so many
And not such a good poem at all.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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O Let Me Have A Late- Night Poem

O LET ME HAVE A LATE- NIGHT POEM

O let me have a late- night poem
A way of saying goodbye
To all the thousands of jumbled feelings of today
To all the music and the beauty of everyday life
To all the quiet haunting search for some great epiphany
To all the letdown and the loss and the fading
In the small errands of daily duty.

Let me have a late night poem
Which hints at the sense of loss
The question of why so much so beautiful
Must die
Why each of us is a passing fragment only.

Let me have a late night poem
For all my sorrow and prayer my pleading to God
A poem to say goodnight and goodbye
Because I too in yet another day ahead
Will understand why
We must all die.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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