Degrading Effusiveness
someone wants his name
remembered
and everyday he vends
along the streets where
people
simply pass him by
he tries poetry
to have his name engraved in stone
should have been in
the hearts of
noble men
those who never wanted a name
those who shun fame
on such a degrading
effusiveness
i give a gush.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Fighting Our Own War
Color
Race
It all comes into play in the war
Not Iraq
Not Afghanistan
Our war
When you can’t walk out your front door
When you need to protect your own
When you’re in the family
You’re in
No turning back
Running from the problems in your life
Peace of mind kept by a piece of steel
Is fear respect?
Is respect fear?
This our war
Our way
Hustle to have a place to sleep
Kill so you can walk the streets
Run so you won’t be caught
We never said we liked it
Never said we wanted it
You’re drafted
There is no choice
You’re in
Or out
Or dead
This is our war
We fight everyday
This is out war
And we will survive by any means necessary
Looking at the engraved words
Etched in stone
We fight for this
We fight for them
Don’t pretend to care
Be honest
Everyday we fight
Everyday we grow tired
You don’t know what its like
Instead of chastising us
Help us
This is a war…
poem by Vanessa Kingsley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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War pt 1
Color
Race
It all comes into play in the war
Not Iraq
Not Afghanistan
Our war
When you can’t walk out your front door
When you need to protect your own
When you’re in the family
You’re in
No turning back
Running from the problems in your life
Peace of mind kept by a piece of steel
Is fear respect?
Is respect fear?
This our war
Our way
Hustle to have a place to sleep
Kill so you can walk the streets
Run so you won’t be caught
We never said we liked it
Never said we wanted it
You’re drafted
There is no choice
You’re in
Or out
Or dead
This is our war
We fight everyday
This is out war
And we will survive by any means necessary
Looking at the engraved words
Etched in stone
We fight for this
We fight for them
Don’t pretend to care
Be honest
Everyday we fight
Everyday we grow tired
You don’t know what its like
Instead of chastising us
Help us
This is a war…
poem by Vanessa Kingsley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Children's Playground In The City
THIS is a place where men laid their dead,
Each with his life-tale of good or ill;
Here prayers were murmured and hot tears shed,
And passionate anguish moaned its fill.
Silent now is each voice that cried,
And the tears that were wept have all been dried
In the dust; and dust are the hearts that bled
With hopeless longing for hearts grown still.
Dead and forgotten! for Death, requiter
Of love, taught Memory how to forget!
The love that remembered them died. Grow brighter,
Oh, dim grave-garden, with dead hearts set!
Room for the small flying feet to pass,
The feet of the children over the grass!
The dead, if they knew it, would feel them lighter
Than the weight of a stone that no tears make wet.
We must die too, and the grief that will live
Must die as surely--death comes to all;
But you who come after--let Nature give
To our graves her tears, to our dust her pall:
Let her hide us away in her cold broad breast,
Let us be forgotten, and be at rest,
And over our heads let the great world strive,
And the children's voices carol and call.
If your heart on the flower of remembrance is set,
There is one way to pluck it--and only one:
Dare you ask your country not to forget
A name that needs to be graved on stone?
By grief, strife, sacrifice, scorn of fame,
You may grave on the people's hearts your name,
Or your name may die, and your soul live yet
In the cause you died for--the work you have done.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Are persons people?
and he says
you don’t write poetry to please people, you know
that’s with a comma after people
you write poems to please you
with shock lines like I still treasure
our first condom oh my love
to show that you’re cool and hip
but she says why write poems at all
if they don’t please people
men have such egos I suppose
it’s because they can’t have babies
but who are people anyway, how
many persons make a people or
how few persons and are they
a random mix or is there like
a recipe, some of this lot some of that
he says people who know about these things
like poetry but how do you know
which are the people who know
I’m not sure I know he knows for a start
and she says well ordinary people
so what then do you slide up
to a bus queue when there’s no
bus in sight and say look you’re
ordinary people I’ve been looking for you
yeah watch them give you a nasty look
and skedaddle pretending they remembered
they were due some place else
I’m beginning to wonder if people really exist
I mean as such but I’ll have to stop there
my PC says it’s run out of virtual memory
that’s another thing I don’t understand
maybe people are just a virtual memory too
I’m beginning to wonder if anyone knows
what *people* should think about poetry
maybe they should just write it throw it away
see who picks it up and not never nohow talk about
other *people’s* poetry
poem by Michael Shepherd
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A Dying Race
My friend Kessa’ and I
Always loved writing
Poetry was our favorite
Everyday on the old yellow school bus
Number 6 or 149
She and I would read to each other
What we had come up with
The night before
I was always a little
Green with envy
Because her writing seemed much
More mature than mine
But one day we realized
That poetry was dying
Even though so many people
Write it all over the world
Poetry has lost it’s fame
Kessa had started a poetry club
But no one showed except me
We wondered why that was
For poetry was a wonderful
Thing
A great outlet
When things went wrong
Which they always did
To me it has become the dying race
Hanging on a thin thread
Of life
What miracle will happen to keep it float
Who will make difference
To relight poetry
In everyone’s mind?
poem by Sydne Morris
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Psycopaths
On the news we see abusers,
Are they psycopaths.
Drug abusers in the schools.
Are they psycopaths.
Confused sick people,
Are they psycopaths.
The misfits, unfit depicted as mad.
Are the ones paranoid,
Also psycopaths.
And the people who annoy,
Are they psycopaths.
What about the crooks,
Are they psycopaths.
And what about the people everyday I pass.
And what about the people everyday I pass.
Are the ones who lie and cheat,
Are they psycopaths.
And what about deceivers,
Are they psycopaths.
And the cops who beat up people,
Are they psycopaths.
Is everyone I see,
A psycopath.
Is everyone I see,
A psycopath.
And what about the homeless,
Who have no cash.
Are they and the hungry,
Psycopaths.
And what about the people everyday I pass.
And what about the people everyday I pass.
Are the rich and snobby people,
Also psycopaths.
Are the people who don't eat,
Are they psycopaths.
And those who watch their diets,
Are they psycopaths.
And those playing videos,
Killing fast!
Are children being raised,
As psycopaths.
Are children being raised,
As psycopaths.
And will psycopaths,
Have all of the cash.
And will psycopaths,
Have all of the cash.
And will psycopaths,
Have all of the cash.
Are children being raised,
As psycopaths.
And will psycopaths,
Have all of the cash.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Wanted A Poem/But There Was No Poetry In Me
I WANTED A POEM/ BUT THERE WAS NO POETRY IN ME
I wanted a poem
But there was no poetry in me
I said to myself from outside,
‘Write the feeling of a song'
But I had no song within me-
Poetry did not flow
No music moved me
I was alone with a Mind
That had no heart or song-
And then I writing
Simply tried to listen to myself
And what I heard
Was these awkward non- poetic lines
That make a poem
Which is not true poetry
And yet here now
proclaims its own rhythm as this page.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fame
As recorded by david bowie
Fame, makes a man take things over.
Fame, let's him lose, hard to swallow.
Fame, puts you there where things are hollow.
Fame.
Fame,
It's not your brain, it's just a flame,
That burns your change to keep you insane.
Fame.
Fame, what you like is in the limo.
Fame, what you get is no tomorrow.
Fame, what you need you have to borrow.
Fame.
Fame,
Now it's mine, it's just his line
To bind your time it drives you to crime.
Fame.
Is it any wonder
I reject you first?
Fame, fame, fame, fame.
Is it any wonder
You are too cool to fool?
Fame.
Fame,
Bully for you,
Chilly for me,
Got to get a raincheck on pain.
Fame.
Fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame,
Fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame,
Fame, fame, fame, - fame.
What's your name?
(fame, fame)
(fame, fame)
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fame
As recorded by david bowie
Fame, makes a man take things over.
Fame, let's him lose, hard to swallow.
Fame, puts you there where things are hollow.
Fame.
Fame,
It's not your brain, it's just a flame,
That burns your change to keep you insane.
Fame.
Fame, what you like is in the limo.
Fame, what you get is no tomorrow.
Fame, what you need you have to borrow.
Fame.
Fame,
Now it's mine, it's just his line
To bind your time it drives you to crime.
Fame.
Is it any wonder
I reject you first?
Fame, fame, fame, fame.
Is it any wonder
You are too cool to fool?
Fame.
Fame,
Bully for you,
Chilly for me,
Got to get a raincheck on pain.
Fame.
Fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame,
Fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame,
Fame, fame, fame, - fame.
What's your name?
(fame, fame)
(fame, fame)
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poetry Is
poetry is what the soul wants
poetry is infinite sound that taunts
poetry is strength of ones spirit
poetry is the powerful truth within it
poetry is love and hate
poetry is what makes you stop wait and appreciate
poetry is something you should die for
poetry is what makes you dropp to the floor
poetry is put up randomly
poetry is, well, simply poetry
poem by Daniel Romero
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Heroes 2
When we were children
we all knew what we wanted to be.
We wanted to follow
in the footstep of our favourite hero.
Our heroes came from noble stock
and stood above the rest.
We wanted to grow up like them
walking tall through the world.
At a certain age reality kicks in
and we become who we are.
It is a lot different than
those heroes we used to adore.
We learn that heroes
are not such a special breed.
We pass hundreds of them everyday
and we fail to recognise them.
They have no super powers
or logos on their chest.
They dress like you and me
in tee-shirt and jeans
and when the chips are down.
A stranger will save the day
and then when everything has died down
the stranger will be on their way.
21 September 2010
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Make This House A Home
Well theres something in us living
Theres something you should know
There was a time for us to fall
Now its time to grow
But you know its not the way
That I intended it to be
Crossing hearts and killing souls
And trying to get down to whats real
All I ever wanted was to make this house a home
I let go of sinking sand wont you help me find a stone
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
Was to make this house a home
All I needed was your hand to hold
I spent so much time alone
I needed your direction
But we re-aligned my broken bones
Well theyre running from a lifeless state
Somehow we lost our hold
All we have with us is change
Left over from what started out as gold
All I ever wanted was to make this house a home
I let go of sinking sand - wont you help me find a stone
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
Was to make this house a home
This is what I give to you
Its flesh and blood
Its body and soul
Wont you take whats left of who I am
And try to see it whole
Im holding you responsible for every word I say
If you feel the brokenness
Wont you try and look the other way
I never meant to be so low
I only wanted you to see
That time was healing someone else
But its tearing apart the very heart of me
This is what I give to you
Its flesh and blood
Its body and soul
Wont you take whats left of who I am
And try to see it whole
All I ever wanted was to make this house a home
I let go of sinking sand - wont you help me find a stone
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
Was to make this house a home
So make this house a home
Make this house a home
Make this house a home
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On Yonge Street
See the people walkin up and down
See the people movin all around
On the streets of my hometown on yonge street
Longest street in the world they say
Summertime soon slips away
I hope Ill see you one fine day on yonge street
Everywhere you go in a city by the lake
Back there in the flow you may give a hand a shake
Everyone you pass seems to wanna say hello
Even late at night on the freshly fallen snow
See the children jumpin all around
See the parents looking up and down
Upon the streets of my hometown on yonge street
Its a mean street if you choose
Its a lean street when you lose
An in-between street when you cruise on yonge street
Everywhere you go in a city by the lake
Youll be sure and find its a case of give and take
Everyone you pass seems to want to say hello
Even late at night when the streets are all aglow
Its the longest street in the world
With the most feet in the world
Another street where boy meets girl on yonge street
See the people walkin up and down
See the people movin all around
Those are the streets of my hometown on yonge street
Everywhere you walk people almost say hello
Even late at night when the streets are all aglow
On yonge street
On yonge street
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We Were Not Wanted
WE WERE NOT WANTED
We were not wanted
All our work
All those years.
You complained endlessly out loud
And I in silence to the page
But no one wanted us.
And we like most
Who strive to ‘create’ or ‘to give’ or ‘to contribute’
Had to eat our hearts out
Each other’s hearts out
In Loneliness, Frustration, and Failure.
We were not wanted-
We are not wanted-
We most likely
Never will be wanted.
We have done what we have done
We do what we can do
We are what we are.
God chooses.
And if we are the Many never called
Silence will roll over our pain forever.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fame
Fame, (fame) makes a man take things over
Fame, (fame) lets him loose, hard to swallow
Fame, (fame) puts you there where things are hollow
Fame (fame)
Fame, its not your brain, its just the flame
That burns your change to keep you insane (sane)
Fame (fame)
Fame, (fame) what you like is in the limo
Fame, (fame) what you get is no tomorrow
Fame, (fame) what you need you have to borrow
Fame (fame)
Fame, nien! its mine! is just his line
To bind your time, it drives you to, crime
Fame (fame)
Could it be the best, could it be?
Really be, really, babe?
Could it be, my babe, could it, babe?
Could it, babe? , could it, babe?
Is it any wonder I reject you first?
Fame, fame, fame, fame
Is it any wonder you are too cool to fool
Fame (fame)
Fame, bully for you, chilly for me
Got to get a rain check on pain (pain)
(fame)
Fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame ,fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame
Fame
Whats your name?
Feeling so gay, feeling gay
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gift to human being
Life is precious Gift to human being
It is dear to all even to poor or king
You may be over ambitious or enterprising
But make sure it is not less promising
Not all people get with whatever they want
Some times they deserve and sometimes don’t
At some level you start to loose your patience
So far you had love and showed so much compassion
You decided to donate generously
You worked hard for destitute and poor continuously
Some of the people are remembered even posthumously
The life was devoted to others and taken very seriously
People from distance observe you minutely
It has come to their mind very lately
You have fame and so much to show to world
So you are taken as model, exemplary and very bold
You might have been compelled to work for free
You knew how noble it is to work like tree?
You made it as daily routine and went ahead
People praised your work and wanted you to lead
It is perceptional difference and exist very much
They are sufferers, view it differently as such
You are devoted to mainly for your satisfaction
They watch and dream about you to become with inclination
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Hearts On Fire
1991. released as b-side of jesus he knows me single, 1992.
In life there are those decisions
Which direction you should take
Its only later that you realize
All those simple mistakes you make
I dont like being alone
Dont wanna be by myself
But since youve gone thats all I can think of
I cant think of nothing else
Oh, I said Im sorry, soon I give it up
You know Im sorry, soon I give it up
You know Im sorry, soon I give it up
Cos my hearts on fire
My hearts on fire
Woh can you take me there
Oh, come back and take me there
Cos I need to be with you
Be there with you
Yes there is no denying
Our love is not untrue
I know Ive lied so many times before
But deep down theres only you
I need you here by my side
Together our love could grow
But first you have to believe that I want you
More than youll ever know
Woh, I said Im sorry and I give it up (give it up)
You know Im sorry, soon I give it up (give it up)
You know Im sorry, soon I give it up (give it up)
Cos my hearts on fire
My hearts on fire
Woh can you take me there
Oh, come back and take me there
Cos I need to be with you
Be there with you
(give it up, give it up, give it up...)
With it we take our chances
What will be will be
But I dont care what the people may think
Just as long as youre here with me
Dont like being alone
Dont wanna be by myself
And since youve gone, well thats all I can think of
I cant think of nothing else
Woh, I said Im sorry and I give it up (give it up)
You know Im sorry soon I give it up (give it up)
You know Im sorry soon I give it up
Cos my hearts on fire
My hearts on fire
Woh can you take me there
Oh, come back and take me there
Cos I need to be with you
Be there with you
You, be there with you
Hearts on fire
Hearts on fire
Hearts on fire
My hearts on fire
Hearts on fire, hearts on fire...
song performed by by Genesis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Everyday Faces
Everyday faces that say hello
Everyday faces that come and go
Everyday faces that stay the same
Everyday day after day
There was a day
When all everything changed
People all came
Stood in the rain
They ain't got a cent (they not the same)
Policeman walked in
The statues all waiting (???)
They wanted a change
Everyday face
Was a time all we could do was try
Was a time when we could say goodbye
Now you find you never do a thing (the same)
Does today feel the same way
Cos there was a day
When all had been changed
People all came
Danced in the rain
They ain't got a cent
And a policeman walked in
The statues all wait (??)
All the same
Everyday face
There was a day
When everything changed
The people all came
Danced in the rain
They're in pain
A policeman walked in
All the statues are waiting
They wanted a change
From an everyday face
Now you're looking at me
Like I'm so passe
I'm a disgrace
Just an everyday face
song performed by by Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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February 21 - whose birthday today?
If you saw the film 'Four Weddings and a Funeral'
you'd have been moved maybe to tears
by his 'Funeral Blues';
If you were a college poetry student
the day after 9/11
you might have had your poet in residence
read his 'September 1,1939'
and had your breath taken away
by its accidental appropriateness
and the last line, which he wanted to amend,
'We must love each other, or die'
Two poems he himself didn't think quite good enough..
this is posthumous fame beyond the control
of poets;
this is what poetry can leave to the world;
this is what poetry is.
Wystan Hugh Auden would have been 100 today.
Rest In Poetry.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A New Definition Of What Is Poetry
now i think i know
what poetry is
it is
everyday
it is not
a form
but a thought
it is beyond thoughts
even
it is a stream
of emotions
and there is a boat
that sails beneath them
there is no rudder
neither sail
there are only hands
that feel
the cascading waters
feet that dangle on the
river
straining the coldness
of the eddies
there is the peace
of the sky
there is the freedom
of the drifting
of the clouds
it is foremost
a dedication and hence
it is as i am telling you
and everyday
affair
here
is the ordinariness of poetry
that most men
do not take seriously
that the world
cannot really believe
thinking that this is talent
and tact
no,
it is everyday
it is defecation
it is breathing
it is strolling
it is eating breakfast
and smoking at the park
it is sleeping and running
and holding hands
it is everyday
it is everything
it is not peculiar
or extraordinary
this is my
poetry.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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