Choices
physically
the changes are inevitable
at the reunion
last December
we were all pigs and
elephants
our best enemies are the
mirrors
we eliminated the word
fat
some cannot speak about
how sickly we are
we hate to face this
plunder of our flesh
how much we have neglected the
basics of our lives
we justify
perhaps we have focused more on the
internal mess, sorting out philosophies
looking for the best reasons
for us to be alive
we drink a lot of beer
and taken too much meat and pasta
we are addicted to books
our feet shrink
our arms are shorter
and our fingers
are melting
like butter
to cut the story short
i for one,
promised: i don't need reunions anymore
i go on with my life
into the abyss of convoluted thoughts
into the ocean of
more deliberations
away from the run
away from the fun.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
I Hate You.
I hate the way you dress
I hate that you are a mess
I hate your eyes
I hate your lies.
I hate it when you talk
I hate the way you walk
I hate your smile
I hate your style.
I hate your arms
I hate your charms
I hate your face
I hate your place.
I hate your hands
I hate your plans
I hate the way you think
I hate it when you drink.
I hate when you call
I hate it all
I hate it that you are true
I hate you when I’m blue.
I hate you when you sleep
I hate you very deep
I hate the way you kiss
I hate to be like this.
I hate your touch
I hate you much
I hate myself more
I hate that’s you I adore.
I hate, I don’t hate you a bit
I hate, I will have to admit
I don’t hate you, Not even small
I don’t hate you at all.
poem by Patricia Perez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dictators must have enemies. They must have internal enemies to justify their secret police and external enemies to justify their military forces.
quote by Richard Perle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Buried Alive
I speak in verses prophecies and curses
I speak in verses prophecies and curses
I hate my life
The miracle is coming its just a hole
Nothings wrong with you, just maintain control
Everyones asking questions, your place is safe
Ill forfeit resurrection to escape the pain
I hate my life
I hate my life
I HATE MY LIFE
(I hate my life)
I HATE MY LIFE
(I hate my life)
I HATE MY LIFE
(I hate my life)
I speak in verses prophecies and curses
The storm of thorns is growing
There is no end in sight
Chaos claws my jaw
Thank Metal riot
Im in the mouth of madness with this tongue of poetry
I ate the spine of atlas, now the world is crushing me
I hate my life
I hate my life
I HATE MY LIFE
(I hate my life)
I HATE MY LIFE
(I hate my life)
I HATE MY LIFE
(I hate my life)
Buried behind enemy lines
Surrogate child for the sins of all mankind
Buried alive behind enemy lines (Buried Alive Buried Alive)
Buried alive behind enemy lines (Buried Alive Buried Alive)
Buried alive behind enemy lines (Buried Alive Buried Alive)
For the sins of all mankind
song performed by by Otep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Killer Instincts Of Thoughts....
his thoughts are like
tall, untamed grasses
no one lives there anymore
and everyone is
afraid,
even the dogs, they sniff
a story
of a bitch who went in there
and never
came back, alive.
the grasses are sharp like swords
and tricky like
a mad magician who kills its willing
subjects alive
and escapes in the air like a
whiff of
a sigh
the grasses are alluring, and one white dog
thinking of the bone
and the meat of the jackal
one night
slipped in there like a thief
the sounds of one choked fade
like a denim.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dinner With Bonnie
the innocence is gone
we were trying to capture it once again
like a tiny bird
but we give up
we have learned to accept
the past
the brokenness of the spirit that it
handed
we drink some more of that light beer
and then we begin to lose
what we keep on hiding and thinking
somehow we promise we must keep
on moving on with our lives
no denial
all acceptances of those still closed
windows that we
tomorrow must open
time is short and it shrinks us
but no matter how small we have become
we are still what we were once
yes, the basics of what we are
still undefeated
and indefatigable....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Obras De Arte
it is all art
there is not much intelligence
all decors
nothing functional like a picture
of a garden of roses
there is no scent
just words imagining the world
of their existence somewhere
it is all style
there is no bread and butter and
coffee
tea is prohibited and
smoking sometimes is allowed
as coping up
mechanism so with a little drink
that takes another drink
beer, rum,
vodka and the tequila against
the rising sun
in the desert
obra maestra he will justify it
no lasting
but keeps on saying
something too trivial
sometimes is too precious
that it is not
for sale
only for reading.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Let us say cheers! ! !
when we grow grapes,
the bounty is huge,
what else be done,
brew it into wine.
When we grow barley,
the bounty is large,
what else be done,
brew it into beer.
When we grow rice,
the bounty is plenty,
what else be done,
brew it into vodka.
When the clime is extreme,
the fingers are numb,
breathing cold air,
can be hotter,
when you have a peg.
When the clime is extreme,
even the palms sweat,
breathing hottest air,
can be cooled down,
when you drown the chilled beer.
When you have moderate climate,
when you grow nothing in extra,
when you have hungry families,
why the liquor is sold
to the poor peasant?
for the revenue of the government?
Is climate a real reason,
for human to consume alcohol,
an item not food?
social drinkers,
compulsive drinkers,
addicted drinkers,
who ever we are,
we have the reasons,
to justify our actions.
in the name of liberty,
freedom and individuality,
without considering,
the welfare of the fellow human,
who may be strong and weak.
Holding a glass of water,
I say cheers to you, guys,
in the name of liberty,
freedom and individuality,
as I have no backbone,
to tell you not to drink.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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18 Definitions Of A Short Poem
1) A short poem
Saves time,
2) A short poem
Saves time
For its reader, also.
3) A short poem is over
Before its read.
4) A short poem
Can be swiftly reread.
5) A short poem
Is a lightning flash.
6) A short poem
Is one metaphor only.
7) A short poem
Is less than nine words.
8) A short poem
Opens ones eyes
In the morning.
9) A short poem
May be a short prayer.
10) A short poem
May be a poem of a single word.
11) Poem.
12) A short poem
A small play on words.
13) A short poem
May be a single sentence.
14) A short poem is shorter
Than the definition of it.
15) It breaks up the icy sea within.
16) A chill down the spine.
17) There is no end
To making definitions of the short poem.
18) A short poem in Hebrew
Is shorter than than the same poem in English.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Only Beast Out Here Is You
You throw on the floor what you don't need anymore
And toss them like a stone, never mind the broken bones.
Justify the senseless death with a false sense of accomplishment,
You found a way to turn blood gold, murder’s always best served cold
You’re sick, twisted, depraved
With your clever word games,
They’re just like us, but not enough
That’s how you justify the tests
That’s how you justify the deaths
Say they’re all just mindless beasts
But you don’t see the irony
Face it cuz you know it’s true
The only beast out here is you
It’s simplified design, no hidden message in the rhyme
Lead them to the slaughter, spill their blood upon the altar
Take the lives that can’t defend, and break the ones you cannot bend
You found a way to get rich off this, bleed them dry to make a profit
You’re sick, twisted, depraved
With your clever word games,
They’re just like us, but not enough
That’s how you justify the tests
That’s how you justify the deaths
Say they’re all just mindless beasts
But you don’t see the irony
Face it cuz you know it’s true
The only beast out here is you
You think to keep the wolves at bay
With all the clever things you say
Manipulate the public state
By filling up their dinner plates
Murder whets their appetites
Yet they lose no sleep at night
You’re sick, twisted, depraved
With your clever word games,
They’re just like us, but not enough
That’s how you justify the tests
That’s how you justify the deaths
Say they’re all just mindless beasts
But you don’t see the irony
Face it cuz you know it’s true
The only beast out here is you
poem by Robert Mahoney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Speak The Word
Unsettled hearts
Promise what they cant deliver
Bring me the wine
And the cold night air to clear my head
Gray matter memory house
Master of this trembling flesh
Steady still my doubts
Let me speak the word that precedes bliss
Let me speak the word
Let me speak the word
Love love love love love love love love
Let me speak the word
Let me speak the word
Love love love love love love love love
Let me speak the word
Let me speak the word
Let me speak the word
Let me speak the word
These weakened knees
Have not touched ground or pew in ages
I havent bowed my head
I offer thanks to any God or to ask for favors
But watch me now
Im falling down
Praying
To speak the word that precedes bliss
To speak the word
To speak the word
Love love love love love love love love
Let me speak the word
Let me speak the word
Love love love love love love love love
Let me speak the word
Let me speak the word
Let me speak the word
Let me speak the word
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Villanelle: The Psychological Hour
I had over prepared the event,
that much was ominous.
With middle-ageing care
I had laid out just the right books.
I had almost turned down the pages.
Beauty is so rare a thing.
So few drink of my fountain.
So much barren regret,
So many hours wasted!
And now I watch, from the window,
the rain, the wandering busses.
"Their little cosmos is shaken" -
the air is alive with that fact.
In their parts of the city
they are played on by diverse forces.
How do I know?
Oh, I know well enough.
For them there is something afoot.
As for me;
I had over-prepared the event -
Beauty is so rare a thing.
So few drink of my fountain.
Two friends: a breath of the forest. . .
Friends? Are people less friends
because one has just, at last, found them?
Twice they promised to come.
"Between the night and the morning?"
Beauty would drink of my mind.
Youth would awhile forget
my youth is gone from me.
(Speak up! You have danced so stiffly?
Someone admired your works,
And said so frankly.
"Did you talk like a fool,
The first night?
The second evening?"
"But they promised again:
'To-morrow at tea-time'.")
Now the third day is here -
no word from either;
No word from her nor him,
Only another man's note:
"Dear Pound, I am leaving England."
poem by Ezra Pound
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sisterly Flaws
I hate you.
I hate when we laugh,
I hate when we stay up late, as I am always tired.
I hate the way you take me places,
and include me in your fun,
I hate the way you say you love me,
and ask me to go for a run.
I hate when you jump out and scare me,
I hate when you make bad jokes.
I hate when you want some sisterly time,
I hate when you ask me to pull your finger.
I hate when we go for a walk,
I hate when you embarass me,
I hate when we reminise.
I hate when you make a mess, and then yell out it was Dave.
I hate when you want to write a song with me.
I hate that you are shorter then me
I hate that your jokes arent funny.
Just one last thing I'd like to say,
did you remember,
ITS OPPOSITE DAY?
poem by Dakota Ellerton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ten Feet Away
Ten Feet Away?
Diamond Rio
Alone at a corner table
She was watching me watching her
I was singing about an old flame burning
She was hanging onto every word
I was pouring out my feelings
She was pouring out the wine
Through the smoke and the beer
It was perfectly clear
That we were touching each other's minds
It was love ten feet away
Imagine her in my arms
With that look on her face
Lying somewhere in some shadowy place
It was love just ten feet away
I just knew my closing song would do it
I knew that I was heaven bound
I could tell she was moved
But before I was through
This stranger walked up and sat down
He was trying his best to impress her
But she never took her eyes off me
When he got up and left
I said to myself
"Whoa, what a night this will be"
It was love ten feet away
Imagine her in my arms
With that look on her face
Lying somewhere in some shadowy place
It was love just ten feet away
It was love ten feet away
Imagine her in my arms
With that look on her face
Lying somewhere in some shadowy place
It was love just ten feet away
Ten Feet Away Lyrics by Keith Whitley
song performed by by Diamond Rio
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life is too short, and I'm Italian. I'd much rather eat pasta and drink wine than be a size 0.
quote by Sophia Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Power To The Meek
Im just a girl
With my head screwed on
Im just a girl
With a smoking gun
I got my fingers stung
My fingers stung yeah
Im just a girl
With my fingers stung
Bless these bones
Bless this skin
All of me
And the mess Im in
Yea the mess Im in
But I dont care
Dont know where Ive been
But Ill get me there
Im alive
Yea and its alright
Im alive
Yea and its alright
Power to the meek
Power to speak
I got the power
Within me
Yea yea
Power to the shine
In my worn out shoes
Power to me
Power to you
Bless this head
Bless this hair
Bless me to the dirt
In my fingernails yea
Bless this day
Bless this night
Give me something good
Make me feel alright
Im alive
Yea and its alright
Im alive
Yea and its alright
Im alive
Yea and its alright
Im alive
Yea and its alright
Its alright
Power to the meek
Power to speak
I got the power
Within me
Power to the shine
In my worn out shoes
Yea
Power to me
Power to you
song performed by by Eurythmics
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Reunion: A Letter To Classmates.....[Personal; High School Friends]
Reunions are cool.....though maybe not so much in the summer.
That this year I'll miss my first one ever is a bit of a bummer.
It's at least interesting to see you all.....even you aging macho guys,
and to give or get answers to all the 'who? 'S, 'what? 'S, and 'why? 'S.
I've seen classmates since last reunion.....at least a dozen,
including a 'no-show' Genevan, .....Connie, my dear my cousin. Visiting Kit (and wife) in Rocky Mountains, for me, was a treat.
In Ohio, John fixed my wife and me, at his home, something yummy to eat.
We've had two meals at Bob & Martha's in their hilltop home (quite high) ,
and dinner out in Bangkok with Karl and wife; Urai speaks both English and Thai.
At last reunion I was retired, living back in our hometown;
now my life has changed (again) .....since then a lot has 'gone down'.
I learned to use internet which helped me find my new mate.
I got my first cellphone; with 'tech things' I'm quite late.
I've settled in wife's San Carlos home, not far from S.F. Bay and ocean.
My child's become a doctor, and gotten her medical career in motion.
I don't do Facebook or Twitter but I did join Classmates.com,
on which I put my long 'story'; in size it is a bomb.
I hope my absence won't wreck reunion for anyone this year.
One or two, in my absence, might even, to reunion, more readily steer!
Therefore I plan to send this, if I can, to my classmates' email,
but in five year's time I do plan to attend; I hope my plan doesn't fail.
Of course that's assuming there is one, and I'm still 'around',
and enough reunion committee members are in a few years found.
To all of you I send my greetings and my sincere best wishes.
I'm sorry I won't be there to help, with all the dirty dishes.
And 'thank you' to Sandy and all other reunion workers, present and past.
Good health to all my high school classmates as middle age creeps up fast!
☮
poem by Bri Edwards
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Promised Land
Watching the sand fall, listening for the knock
Upon my door,
And waiting... for promised land.
Standing neck deep in life,
My ring of brass lay rusting on the floor.
Is this all?
Because its not what I expected.
Somewhere along the way
Friends I once held close fled the fast lane.
I didnt notice, I just had to make it.
Head down, nose in the grindstone;
The kiss of life placed on my brow
Kept sliddin to the ground
And now its buried six feet under.
Preaching from the floor again
The same old sad song,
Bartender... bring another drink for their favorite son.
Where did it all go wrong?
Whats the use in even holding on?
Heres to love, hate... and promises.
Almost called it today.
Turned to face the void
Numb with the suffering
And the question,
Why am i...?
So many times Ive tried and failed to
Gather my courage, reach again for that nail.
Lifes been like
Dragging feet through sand,
And never finding... promised land.
Preaching from the floor again
The same old sad song,
Bartender... bring another drink for their favorite song.
Where did it all go wrong?
I feel like Im dying.
Heres to love, to hate,
To promises and promised land lies.
song performed by by Queensryche
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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LORD OF EARTH and SKY
Be aware;
The Lord God is here!
In the rumble of thunder
In lightning
In clouds…His exhalation
You guess, before you speak
He knows, before you speak
You hate your brother
He loves you both
God Lives in all His Creation
Everything Mirrors God
Be of good cheer Beloved
Have courage
Look into a mirror…
“Behold the Face of God”
ROTMS
(Inspired by Master Rumi)
poem by Ray Lucero
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Vino Rosso Della Guerra
I
My father spoke of eating rats
to stay alive in World War I
as he lay in bloodied fields
while in the distance
he watched the vineyards glinting in the sun.
His mother had wailed as she watched him go
while his father’s bony finger
traced a purple cross
bare feet wedded to the grapes
marching
marching
marching
to the beat of the drums
II
My mother said Mussolini was good
because he made everyone
throw their pigs out
of the house and made sure
everyone got pasta every day
but no meat.
By then the pigs had all been slaughtered
to feed the army.
In the garden behind her shack,
broccoli withered in the hot Sicilian sun,
water doled out like vino rosso to dying alcoholics.
'One liter too much and Il Duce’s soldati
might die of thirst, ' the peasants would hiss,
rolling their eyes, while huddling in dark cellars
where wine presses used to dwell.
The purple grapes that once graced
the countryside had all been razed
the culls remaining
just so many
rotting raisins.
poem by Allesandra Patti
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Rondeau
Fleas, stink, pigs, mold,
The gist of the Bohemian soul,
Bread and salted fish and cold.
Leeks, and cabbage three days old,
Smoked meat, as hard and black as coal;
Fleas, stink, pigs, mold.
Twenty eating from one bowl,
A bitter drink -it's beer, I'm told-
Bad sleep on a straw in some filthy hole,
Fleas, stink, pigs, mold,
The gist of the Bohemian soul,
Bread and salted fish and cold.
poem by Eustache Deschamps
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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