About other people’s lives
About other people’s lives
Rizal the hero must have chewed cud
And found the grass bitter, or the mongo
Beans too hard for his taste. Perhaps he
Did not know the exact number of
His buttons when he walked towards
Luneta and face his accusers
And meet his death. Perhaps he did not
Like the light from his lamp when
He wrote a poem. I do not really know
More about his persona life.
Did he like cheese? Did he take a deep
Breath and spit on the dogs along
The road? He poured no tears
Onto the frying pan of this
Old country. They wrote a lot
After two or more centuries
And there were so many stories
Not really rumors but I thank
God I am no great hero.
No one writes about me
And I think I am more understood
In my own privacy.
I do not really mind about
Other people’s lives
I do not peep on my
Neighbor’s windows.
I move my own hip
And drive my own car
Slowly away from those
Crowd on the parking lots
Of the mall. I like to stay
On the side of an abandoned house
And just sit there for a while
For no reason at all.
Winds do not frisk trees I guess.
Hairs fell wherever they want.
I touch my own cheek
And bite my own lips.
God! I like it when I am here
And no one minds me.
And I mind no one too.
I like the bridge
Long enough for my
Hand to travel on my nose.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Angel of the Sky
Some people don't know you like I do
Some people don't trust you like I do
Some people would rather choose a fool,
because they don't know you like I do
As a result, people fear the night,
the dangerous creatures that lurk within.
They bring their hopes completely down,
until surrender is hard to resist.
In contrast, I do love the night
There's awesome creatures that may exist,
during the times when I go out.
That's when I know that they do live
So I do not fear the night,
because there's miracles waiting outside,
once I look at the beautiful sky,
because lying in that beautiful sky,
is the angel of the sky, the hero in our lives.
The angel of the sky
The hero in our lives
And I don't fear the time;
there's lots of time for all to pass-by.
Once you look at the gorgeous sky,
pray to God to give you light.
You will see that there is time.
He is the light of all our lives,
The inspiration of my entire life,
The buried treasure that I find,
and what I'll live for till I die.
In the sky lies the angel of the sky,
my hero, my God, and my entire life.
My darkness is lighted by his light
He makes my life a better life
The angel of the sky
The hero in our lives
But some people don't know you like I do
Others don't trust you the way I do
Some would choose a fool rather than you,
because they don't know you like I do.
They don't know the wonders of the sky
They don't know the meaning of this life
Or the times it takes from having to try,
to finally achieve something in this life.
It's hard to describe this art of life
It's hard to describe all of my difficult times,
because once in my life the light did die;
it wasn't easy to restore the light.
The light was dying and I fell behind
Hope I tried finding but I didn't know you
The light was dying and so was I
But hope I tried finding till I found you
So when I stare at the night, and the stars in the sky
A signal uncovered I try to find
One that leads my life back into your light,
to live in harmony all the time.
I am not scared of the taunting dark
Miracles await to eventually spark
For the very first time, if you just look at the sky,
because lying in the sky is the hero of my life
He's the sun that brings us immense light,
the love that always glides my life,
the strength that helps me win a fight.
He's what I'll live for till I die
In the sky lies the angel of the sky,
my hero, my God, and my entire life.
Looking at the sky brings me peace inside
I smile at knowing his presence lies in my life.
The angel of the sky
The hero in our lives
Some people don't know you like I do
Others don't trust you the way I do
Some people will never trust you like I do
They do not know the wonderful things that you can do,
by being the angel of the sky,
the hero in my life.
The hero in my life
The angel that lies in the sky
You're the angel of the sky
The hero in my life
The angel of the sky
The hero in my life
poem by Jordys Herrera
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True Face of A War Hero
(dedicated to... well no one. I have seen the carnage of war and wrote this. I'm sorry to all my family that is fighting for america for me to post this but well yeah.)
*War.*
A simple three letter word designed to make people go die,
*Hero.*
A person who does a great deed and is reconized for that deed.
A War Hero
A person reconized for being a hero during a war (and they usually die doing that deed)
I had waited eagerly for that moment,
We had all wanted to see the great general.
We crowded the streets,
Our happy screams rising thorugh the day.
At last the car drifted down the street and the greatest of all hushes fell,
Out stepped a man,
he had no arm,
He walked only beacuse of two plain crutches.
Everyone fell silent,
Surely this couldn't be the great hero who won the war?
He smirked and glared at us sourly,
Such a great hero am I,
Your cheers echo for all to hear!
And then you fall silent,
Seeing this bitter man before you.
So is war such a good thing for you to cheer me?
All I did was cause another war.
And as all of us do,
I killed others- many others.
And I'm proud of it.
The man hobbled into the car and drove away,
The croud dwindled to meet and greet others.
They cared not for this bitter stranger,
They cared not that he killed many others,
They cared not that war was destruction.
So do we care that others are dying?
It's your choice,
Choose.
Only you can decide what we do/
poem by Jinx Natta
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The Hero and The Villain
When you see a Hero,
what do you think of the Hero?
'The Hero is Amazing'
'The Hero saves lives'
'The Hero is a bad person, not even human.'
'He stinks and I don't like the hero.'
People love the hero,
they love the hero cause he saves lives,
they love him cause he protects the city,
Some people don't like the hero cause they are
the ones who do crime.
Crimes like murder, kidnapping, stealing, sell drugs,
rob banks..... but the person who hates the hero the
most..... is the Villain.
The ones who hate the Villain the most is the people,
the hero never takes a life, the hero doesn't hate the Villain, the hero wants to help the Villain.
The Villain knows he needs help, but the Villain Doesn't want help, the Villain has been through an emotional life, the villains hates everyone...
Everyone knows a Superhero story goes, the Villain ends up Dead..
Everyone must know this..
Sometimes all the Villains were once heroes..
You die a hero, or you live long enough to see
yourself become the Villain....
poem by Noel Lopez
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I Lost The Poem I Wrote In My Mind
I LOST THE POEM I WROTE IN MIND
I lost the poem I wrote in my mind
When walking to Shul this morning-
I can only try to recall its thoughts;
‘Walk too fast and the mind cannot hear itself
Walk slowly and listen to the poem inside yourself.
The road ahead the trees the sky
Has a beauty too great for you to write
Thank God for your sight.”
The best lines are forever gone-
A poem to replace a poem
Is not as good as the original-
I wish I had the words for all the beauty God gives me in my life
How wonderful it is to be alive- sometimes
And to be able to write poems – even if somewhat poorly.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Working Class Hero
(alan jackson/don sampson)
A callused right hand
Holds a shiny gold watch
For thirty years spent on the clock
But you wont see no tears
>from this workin class hero
Hes always been hard as a rock
But he knows hes too old
To really start over
Besides he just wouldnt know how
I guess hes just glad
That hes not alone
But hes got to wonder what now
cause theres no hall of fame for that working class hero
No statute carved out of stone
And his greatest reward is the love of a woman
And his children
So after hes gone
That old working class hero lives on
That three-bedroom house
He built in the 50s
Seems so much bigger today
With just him and mama
And not many bills
cause all of the kids moved away
What hes done with his life
Might not be remembered
But hes got every right to be proud
cause the blood sweatin years
Of this workin class hero
Is really what livins about
cause theres no hall of fame for that working class hero
No statute carved out of stone
And his greatest reward is the love of a woman
And his children
So after hes gone
That old workin class hero lives on
Yes, that workin class hero lives on
That workin class hero lives on
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Lake Shows All
Is it true what they’re whispering in the streets?
Is it true what they are saying?
Is it true about what’s going to happen?
Is that why all the children have stopped playing?
The rumours are the hero’s here
The one that’s going to save lives
They’re going to save everyone
Fathers, children and wives
We’re told to meet them in the forest
Near the sparkling lake
We’re told to go one by one
Nothing needed to take
Everyone’s queuing to see the hero
Everyone’s queuing today
Everyone’s excited for it]
Everyone wants their say
People are leaving now
People are amazed
This hero must really be good
Because everyone’s left all dazed
My turn has come it’s finally here
My turn to follow the path
My turn to question to this hero
Hope there’s jokes to make us laugh
I enter the clearing near the lake
There’s calmness all around
I enter this peaceful zone
Without making any sound
I look around for the hero
I look for a long, long while
I look around high and low
There’s nothing but a leafy pile
Edging closer to the lake
I see a sign ahead
Edging closer slowly forward
The sign itself read:
‘You’re here to se the hero
You’re here to meet him now
You want your problems solving
Anyway, anyhow.
The hero is here today
The hero is standing close
The hero is very similar
With your eyes, ears and nose.
So yes my friend, you’ve guessed the end
So now you really see
That you can truly say to yourself
The hero lies within me.
tourism ***** JOSE RIZAL STANDING AT DAPITAN
tribute poem to the
Philippine national hero
Dr. Jose P. Rizal as exiled here
in Dapitan by the Spanish colonizers
before he was firing- squad- to -death
in Luneta, Manila 1898
Long before I heard
this historic place
even before I took up
civic and culture elementary
grade school subject
I visit here not for
educational tour
riding bus for hire
by a whole institutions
pressured by mentors
against consent by some parents
who never value about history
I am here to see
the ruins of Spanish era
the national hero's way of life
art of living
his bamboo shelter, clinic
mini- children school
kitchenette
and believe me
there is no single nail attaching
and connecting the shack
maybe Chinese hardware
at that time wasn't accessible yet
It is a self-intriguing tour
educating oneself
while matching Rizal's height
with mine
ranging 5' to 5' 3''
thru his life size statue
a rain or shine relic hero
poem by Rommel Mark Dominguez Marchan
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A Poem
i wrote you a poem,
that stood naked on
your doorstep,
but you didnt notice...
so i wrote you a poem,
that bled on your kitchen floor,
yet the mop stood untouched
in the corner!
i wrote you a poem,
that set itself on fire
in your bedroom,
and you opened the window.
so i wrote you a poem,
from the land of death...
your tears only an echo,
that couldnt touch...
couldnt taste, couldnt feel...
will you write me a poem?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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A Hero?
Her hero is pretty and thin
Her hero is a hero to many
A hero of fame and a hero of fortune
A role model, a hero of glamour
Her hero is a hero to many
His hero is fit and fast
His hero is a hero to many
A hero of sport, a hero of games
A role model, a hero of victory
His hero is a hero to many
Her hero is clever yet plane
Her hero is a hero to few
A hero of science, a hero of logic
A role model, a hero of knowledge
Her hero is a hero to few
His hero is a hero of art but he is poor
His hero is a hero to few
A hero of word a hero of writings
A role model, a hero of language
His hero is a hero to few
But that’s the thing with your heros....
Hero worship is only skin deep.
poem by Timothy Venard
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A Real Hero
A REAL HERO
Some people come into our life and quickly go. Some stay for a while and leave footprints on our hearts. And we are never, ever the same.
We admire some people because they are good at what they do and we want to be like them.
Both actions and character are keys to what it takes to be a hero. Perhaps a person is your hero because he or she is extremely honest, or may be that person fought to improve a bad situation or helped someone in great need.
Recipe of a hero: Although heroes are unique, there is a common denominator. A hero makes a difference to the lives of others, often without fanfare. The influence of a hero's actions can live long after the actual deeds are forgotten.
A hero models the great possibilities of the human spirit. This can help us discover our own talents and heroic qualities.
But remember: Heroes are only human. They may not do everything right all the time.
Learning to understand their mistakes and putting them into perspective is a sign of maturity. So imitate the good in others, while always trying to be our own unique best selves.
poem by Bhumika Wadhwa
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Guitar Hero III: Legends of Rock
My neighbor plays Guitar Hero III and he has lots of fans.
He's better at it than other people, nobody can play it like he can.
He loves this game and he jams everyday.
He gets the highest score every time he plays.
This is the only game he plays and it really rocks.
He can't put his guitar down, he's king of the XBOX.
Sometimes it gets on his parents nerves because it's pretty loud.
Lots of people come to see it, he always draws a crowd.
People love this game because it's loads of fun.
Nobody can beat my neighbor's score because he's number one.
poem by Randy Johnson
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Have You?
have you ever experienced walking
just walking away without having any destination in mind?
just seeing the place where you always pass
the trees along the path
some weeds and stones and carabao dung
no conclusions
just observations
the clouds hanging on the side of the hill
the sun shining above a tall coconut tree
you take shade
and some streaks of light pass thru the leaves
sometimes i drive the car
but i do not have any place in mind
or name
or purpose
i just keep driving following the road
and slowly i see the ordinary things
and people and
structures
an old bridge abandoned
beside its railing some vines
rust overcoming its steel edges
your mind keeps traveling
but you do not stop it
it is the one controlling itself
not you
the sounds of birds and the
motors and some conversations
of people around you
vendors and passers-by
carrying their goods and
important supplies
have you ever written a poem
without any plan as to its theme
or a careful thinking about some imagery
or a deliberation as to the propriety of its tone
its count and color?
this is the one.
this is the poem that is making itself.
no rules. no theme.
no expectations.
plain monologue.
no unity. no consistency. nothing logical.
it is free. and it may be nothing but
an ugly piece.
but it is.
it is. Just as it is.
and this could be nothing but a
portrait of the face of
nothing. Nobody. No one.
No.Yes. A No.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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All She Wrote
Something's wrong with your mind
It won't think of me anymore
Was it all a waste of time
Tell me why was I such a chore
Broken glass lies empty
Cut my voice so I can't say
Today was that day
It was that time
And that was all that she wrote for me
You fell away
I don't know why
And that was all that she wrote for me
Lying here in your bed
The one that you liked to do it in
Pieces of long brown hair
Are all over it and still in my brain
I can't explain
What it's like not knowing if I'll ever cross your mind
Today was that day
It was that time
And that was all that she wrote for me
You fell away
I don't know why
And that was all that she wrote for me
Sleep through the day
Fight with the night
Seven a.m. and the tv is white
Covered in snow
I never knew that hell could get so cold
Today was that day
It was that time
And that was all that she wrote for me
You fell away
I don't know why
And that was all that she wrote for me
Today was that day
It was that time
And that was all that she wrote for me
You fell away
I don't know why
And that was all that she wrote for me
Something's wrong with your mind
It won't think of me anymore
Was it all a waste of time
song performed by by Default
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I wish I could be somebody
I wish I could be somebody’s hero, someone who
People could admire. I wish I could be somebody
I never ask for much, I always am polite
But sometimes I don’t think people listen
When I speak or notice when I smile.
I wish I could be somebody’s hero even for
An hour or so, just to feel as if I had done
Something that was worth it all.
I always wanted to be strong, flex my muscles and
See the weakling run. I always wanted to
Be somebody who could always get the
Girl. I wish I could be somebody’s
Hero, someone who would save the world
I don’t want to fly like Superman or drive a
Fast car like Batman, I just want to do
Something that is worth it all.
I don’t want to be a hero suffering pain. I just
Want to be a hero without gain. I want
To be somebody who is looked upon as
More than a friend, more than a hero.
I wish I was a hero someone who gets
The girl, feel those arms around my neck
And soft lips brushing mine. I just
Want to be something that is worth it all.
I wish I could be somebody who knows what
Life is all about. I want to scream I want to shout
I want to be someone who the world talks
About. I just wish that I could be
Somebody, anybody but me. I wish I was a hero
To the girl in my dreams, I wish she could
Be the reason for my being somebody
Who does something that is worth it all.
©Steve Gregory/Celtic Fish 2000
poem by Steve Gregory
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The Poem I Wrote/ As I Walked To Shul At Night
THE POEM I WROTE/ AS I WALKED TO SHUL AT NIGHT
The Poem I wrote
As I walked to Shul at night
Was the prayer that God
would help us survive and thrive
in this dark and difficult region
where Death and Destruction
are Demanded Daily
by those who would rather kill us
than love their own lives.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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No Poem Is An Original
No poem is an original
everyone who writes
poetry thinks their poem
was an original, it just so
happens that their poem just
surfaced to the top
of their mind first, so they
were able to write it.
Everyone has love, hate
compassion buried deep
in their soul.
Poets are able to bring
all of this to the surface,
to construct, add the words,
but it is not an original
idea, for the poet because
they wrote it now, it
becomes an original for them.
Who has not heard a song,
read a poem, story or book,
seen a movie and said,
to themselves, hey I had
that same idea.
Only thing is, someone else
brought it to the surface
of the mind, and wrote it first.
Even this poem I'm writing
now is not an original
someone out there
has this idea buried
deep in their soul.
So if you have an idea
for a poem, get busy
write it, don't wait,
or you won't write an original
start today,
don't delay.
wrote 2-2-07
Your Hero
I can be your hero
You can take my breath away
Would you dance if I ask you to dance
Would you cry if you saw me crying
Would you tremble if I touch your lips
Put me in your arms tonight
I can kiss away the pain
I will stand with you forever
With your pulchritude
I have lost my mind.
I can be your hero
Let me kiss away the despondency
I want to confine you
My mind boggling
I don't care what the affliction maybe
I am ready for it
LET ME BE YOUR HERO
poem by Samuel Nyarko
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Numbers
Its stranger how some numbers
keep recurring in our lives.
At first, we do not notice it
until one day we think of them.
Our date of birth, houses numbers we have lived in,
our children’s birth date
and our brother or sister’s date of birth.
When you look at them
and one number seems to readily appear,
you begin to wonder if that number
has some bearing on our lives.
The number linked to my life is number 8.
I was born on the 18th,
in Canada the house I grew up in was 28
and my sister was born on the 18th.
Moving to England our house number was 62.
When my wife and I got married,
our first house was 24,
our second house was 18
and our present house number is 107.
My wife’s birth date is the 8th;
my son was born on the 17-8-71.
Everywhere I look the number 8 just keeps popping up.
Coincidence I guess you could call it,
or is there something else a foot.
I will just let you the reader to decide.
3 September 2009
Author’s note.
The evening I wrote this, my wife went out, was talking to someone, and mentioned how the number 8 always appeared in our lives.
Coincidence?
poem by David Harris
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05 - A Hero
A hero thinks of others before they think of themselves
A hero will die to protect
A hero can be of any age, any colour
A hero can be man, woman or child
A hero is courageous, loving and brave
A hero will never complain
A hero can be made in one act of compassion
Or years of tender loving care
Some hero's are remembered, whilst many are left forgotten
Hero's are angels in disguise, saving precious innocent lives
poem by Nicola Burkett
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Coming From The Heart
by Bob Dylan and Helena Springs
We have got to come together
How long can we stay apart?
You may get it maybe never
But it's coming from the heart.
Your life is full of indecision
You can't make up your mind.
We must get it in position
And move it on down the line.
'Cause the road is long, it's a long hard climb
I been on that road too long of a time
Yes the road is long, and it winds and winds
When I think of the love that I left behind.
Make me up a bed of roses
And hang them down from the vine
Of all my loves you've been the closest
That's ever been on my mind.
Please don't talk about tomorrow
I'm really not one to care
This world is filled with too much sorrow
That nobody's heart should bear.
'Cause the road is long, it's a long hard climb
I been on that road too long of a time
Yes the road is long, and it winds and winds
When I think of the love that I left behind.
Please, please give me indication
Stop and talk to me
Like a river that is flowing
My love will never cease to be.
You will always be my honey
No one could take your part
Our love can't be bought with money
'Cause it's coming from the heart.
'Cause the road is long, it's a long hard climb
I been on that road too long of a time
Yes the road is long, and it winds and winds
When I think of the love that I left behind.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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