Obsession (revised)
to believe that there are heights to my own glory
is no longer possible.
On that day in that room, where they wear
all their thick glasses, their hands have already done
what should not have been done.
I was weak, and my mouth did not open.
They kill every poem i had in my palms.
They were doves.
They said they were bats.
Black bats.
No, i said they are the whitest doves i have.
They are even angels.
They were laughing.
Some giggled.
And they
said, 'Crucify him, crucify him! '
IT was an obsession.
That i have butterflies on my hair.
That there were
red roses in my fingers.
There were none, in fact.
What i had are mere words.
Syllables of my survival.
When i left that room, i did not admit that it was my mistake.
Far from that,
i look again at my hands in the mirror,
and i saw
vines, fragile tendrils, and they are so alive, like
dragonflies.
One understands somehow, that we write, not because we want
to have a brand, a name, a tattoo
a heart, a rose, an arrow, blood dripping
NO. That is not so. We write because we are here and our fingers
are always incomplete.
We press our palms on our chest and we say
Look i love myself, and this all i got.
Let me write and let it all be about me.Not for those thick glasses
Inside that room.Their rules are not mine.
I have mine only to give.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Gentle Poem
The gentle poem with palms so tender
Caress mine heart and with song render
A man sweet, whom was born a brute
Now as gentle as love's played flute
Tranquil I play in her love's fair
And run my fingers down her love's lyre
Never was a love's palm so tranquil
As my love touched a polished heart; genteel
The placid lake of her palms blood
Did gradually inundate my mind's flood
And write her name in my soul clement
For my love to taste and nobly lament
The gentle poem of her calm palm
And sing to me, her amiable psalm
Of ‘love is love in a mine dove-like touch
Lady like, civil, elegant as such
A love like me, sings softly
I love you my love so quietly'….
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dotty and Willy.
Dotty screws the pen lid,
puts the pen down, folds
her hands in her lap. Willy
has finished his poem, he
is now silent, his muse has
gone. She watches as her
brother sits back in his chair,
pushes his fingers through his
dark hair and sighs. That makes
her almost cry, that poet muse
going like that, him sitting there,
face empty, sighs leaving him
instead of words. Tonight she
will enter it all in her journal,
after cocoa and a biscuit and
Willy's kiss and him gone off
to bed, humming to himself.
She will sit by lamplight, take
out her pen, and write on the
clean page, how he wrote,
what he wrote, the words,
the muse, the leaving of him.
She will leave out the kiss,
the embrace, the seeing each
other face to face. Willy hates
writing things down, he just likes
to sit when the words come and
he can speak them and let Dotty
write the words in the air floating
there. He gets up from his chair,
paces the room, his hands behind
his back, his words gone, his mood
dark, becoming black. Dotty looks
at her hands, entwines her fingers,
makes a church, makes a steeple,
looks inside, sees ink stained people.
poem by Terry Collett
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The Difference Between You And Me....
perhaps we have the same vices,
we write to confuse, but we drive some points,
like nails on sandalwood,
not those rusty ones that make the sound
of 'trying hard'
we are original in these, competing only with
our own syllables,
we may have the same vices
i may have written all those words to confuse
but mine is a series of stairs
leading to the door to the room to the window
to the skies
and then everything i am is gone
but you do not notice it
you think that i am still the chair and the table
the napkin and
the spoon.
my wings are hands
my hands are winds,
my mind are planes,
my soul a boat,
what i write are mirages
you see, you cannot touch.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I'd Rather Write
I'd rather write a poem, Lord,
Than mow the lawn today,
As mowing grass I'd soon be bored
And choose to walk away...
That wall needs painting, yes, I know,
Another month won't hurt,
I'd rather write and watch words flow
Than paint and hide the dirt...
I'd rather write a poem, Lord,
Than tidy up that room,
A tidy room's a poor reward
Compared with words that bloom...
That pile of clothes I'll get round to,
No pressure, they can wait,
I'd rather write my point of view,
As my views are first rate...
I'd rather write a poem, Lord,
Than wash the car outside,
It's not a Rolls, it's just a Ford,
With scratches dust can hide...
That stack of dishes, won't complain,
No rush to stand, wipe, stir,
I'd rather write my thoughts again
Before they melt and blur...
I'd rather write a poem, Lord,
Than shop for milk and bread,
Black coffee's okay, rest assured,
I'll give up toast instead...
I'll see my girlfriend, next week, soon,
Tomorrow or tonight...
I'd rather write this afternoon,
Please, Lord, if that's all right...
Denis Martindale, copyright, March 2012.
poem by Denis Martindale
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United In Pain
my fingers
are not mine anymore
they are running
out of control
i do not wish
to write some more
to infuriate you
but my hands are
rebels
coming out from
my arms
into their
fingers
writing these
lines
i am detached
severed
from the rest of my
parts
i have no more control
about
destiny in the making
birds of blue
feathers
are coming out
from my mouth
and they are not
coming back
my fingers are
automatons
writing now on
their own
i am not
responsible for your
anger
i am a useless man
and my fingers
are not mine anymore
my C5 chokes a nerve
i am numb
my fingers are at war
against
each other now
thoughts converge
without much meaning
united
in pain.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Irony
Always, sweetheart,
Carry into your room the blossoming boughs of cherry,
Almond and apple and pear diffuse with light, that very
Soon strews itself on the floor; and keep the radiance of spring
Fresh quivering; keep the sunny-swift March-days waiting
In a little throng at your door, and admit the one who is plaiting
Her hair for womanhood, and play awhile with her, then bid her depart.
A come and go of March-day loves
Through the flower-vine, trailing screen;
A fluttering in of doves.
Then a launch abroad of shrinking doves
Over the waste where no hope is seen
Of open hands:
Dance in and out
Small-bosomed girls of the spring of love,
With a bubble of laughter, and shrilly shout
Of mirth; then the dripping of tears on your glove.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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Why Do I Write
I write from my sadness
I write from the madness
I write because I have something to say
I write to pass the day
I write only from the heart
I write for sometimes I am not that smart
Whatever is in head just comes out on paper (in this case a word document) , and I go with the flow
Write to let my mind go
I follow my hand to where ever it takes me
I write all the things that I can see
I write when I am happy, but not as much
I write from my heart that you can touch
I write because I’d go insane
I am driven to write quell my pain
At times I feel alone so I write what I am feeling
I write for it is self-healing
Confident not so I write it all away
I write and write to pass the day
I write to comfort my soul that cries out in the night
I write for love is always out of sight
I write so I don't have to cry any more
I write for I have no one to adore
I write so someone somewhere will hear my plea
I write for someone is out there for me
I am lost and I the clown
I write to turn my frown upside down
I write to embrace the sadness I hide inside
I write with my heart opened wide
I write to silence the ghost
I write for I’ve been let down by the one I loved the most
I write through the stormy weather
I write for I am light as a feather
I am not a writer nor am I a poet
I write for the grief I do know it
I will write until I draw my last breath
I write because I'll die a lonely death
I have to write for strangers delight
I write because I have to write
I write for my own happiness
I write to relieve my stress
I write because I have no other choice
I write as if I was writing a letter
I write because I can’t do any better
I write because I am afraid not to
I write for this is what I do
I write for I give a damn
I write just because I am
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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Room
In your room
In your room
Silent man
Once again
The razors song
The razors song
Wear the mask
Another fave
In your room
In your room
City red
City red
Wear the mask
Wear the mask
A private hell
A secret sin
A friend of mine
Waiting for
A western man
Waiting for
New kind of glory
A view of glory
From this room
I only live here
I only live here
A fragile man
Waiting waiting
Echoes...
I only live here
Echoes
In this room
Echoes...
Lyrics : j kerr music : simple minds (c) emi publishing ltd reproduced without permission
song performed by by Simple Minds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Song About You
If I could write a song
I’d write a song about you
I would write about how
You’re all I can every think about
How you flood my dreams each night
How thinking of you takes my breath away
When I look up to the satellites
If I could write a song
I’d write a song about you
I would write about how
The long lost butterflies returned
How I hope my number you’ll dial
And how your memory smothers me with smiles
If I could write a song
I’d write a song about you
I would write about how
You were the only one
Who had enough of me to break my heart
And when love took over my heart
You tore it all apart.
If I could write a song
I’d write a song about you
I would write about how
I gave you my heart
Caught up in the thought
That we were off to a great start
But how you threw a damn dart
Right into the center of my heart
If I could write a song
I’d write a song about you
About how you crushed my heart
Not bothering to look back.
If I could write a song
I’d write a song about you
poem by Jess Schwarcz
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To have a feel of my food
To have the feel of my food not just the taste of it in my tongue
I use my bare hands, the rice I fold between my palms the fish
I touch with my fingers, and then my mouth opens to swallow and savor
Just like you tonight, I feel you with my bare hands I taste you
With my tongue because you are the food of my soul and my soul
Feeds on you as you also feed on mine
We are bare all over, not just our bare hands
We touch we feel we lick we breath with our noses
On our skins, we feed on our flesh, we go deeper
Into our souls, our eyes feast on the food we lay in front of us
The lights of our eyes open in our room the festivity to a beginning
We feed on ourselves we are hungry & greedy & we are never full
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Pen funney
Pen is
Not write a poem...
The hands will write...
The road...
The walk...
The kiss...
The rap...
The sky...
Theay all are write
The hands...
Pen is not write
Without hands and
Brain and heart...
Pen is only tool
The tool do to do
Some time funney...
Also...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Scribbler's Stymie
Pen and paper in sight
I've got no poem to write
Staying up all night
I've got no poem to write
Although my mind is bright
I've got no poem to write
It's windy out tonight, should I go fly a kite?
I've got no poem to write
My ceiling, it is white
I've got no poem to write
It's 4: 59! Five, but not quite
I've got no poem to write
In your arms I'd feel so light
I've got no poem to write
I've had no sleep tonight
I've got no poem to write
Will you just hold me tight?
I've got no poem to write
Outside it's almost light
I've got no poem to write
It's late, off goes my light
I've got no poem to write
poem by Julia Grace
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Broken Chances
My Love,
I don't know how you're going to get this,
But it is my last word on this Earth.
Just what ever you do sit alone and read this.
I want you to be at the lake where you gave me my first kiss,
I want you to sit by the tree that held us, and read this.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You were my love, my only one person who always made me smile,
You held my hand through so many things, so many firsts.
You were my light you were my smile
And you told me the three deadly words,
The words that always kill, but first make you smile.
I have sewed my mouth shut, so you will never see me smile.
I would melt at the sound of your voice,
I would just sit and listen just to know you were really there,
I would call when you weren't home, just to hear your voice.
My wish every day was to hear you say 'I love you',
To hear your voice.
I have glued my ears so I don't have to listen to your lies.
I remember the feeling of your hands running through my hair,
You'd weave your fingers through it to comfort me,
Sometimes I would act sad just to feel your fingers in my hair,
I would silently smile and melt in your arms.
I remember your fingers running through my blond hair.
I have cut my hair so I can never remember that feeling.
U can see you standing looking at me with your sparkling eyes,
I always see you,
I can never see past those deep eyes,
I can see you smile at me, see your hands reach for mine.
I can still see your eyes.
I have cut my eyes out so I can never again fall into your deceiving eyes.
You made my heart race with butterflies, with hope.
I gave you my heart to keep, you said you'd never break it,
You gave me the one thing i needed ti keep going; hope.
And I fell for the traps, I gave you EVERYTHING.
I ave you all the hope I held in my heart, my soul.
I have stabbed my heart, just so you can't shatter what's already broken.
You became my life, you became my love, my everything.
No matter what happened I still loved you,
And no matter what I tried to give you everything,
And you made me loose so much that I'm left with nothing,
And with my dying breath I give you what was all I had left, my everything.
I take my life to show you what love really means, that it's not the lie you told.
I may not be able to smile when you hold me,
I may not be able to hear your words even if their truth,
I may not be able to remember you soothing touch, or your warmth,
I mat not be able to see your eyes, or your reaching hands,
I may not be able to press my beating heart against your skin,
I may not be able to give you a second chance, for like my heart it is broken,
But After the pain and lies, I believe in what I felt for you,
And hope maybe someday you'll believe the same, and find beauty from pain
Even with nothing left to give you but my word, I breath my last breath for you.
I lay in silence to let you live, to give to you a broken second chance,
For I will always love you,
Be............
by: Bethany Maxwell =)
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Song About The Moon
If you want to write a song about the moon
Walk along the craters of the afternoon
When the shadows are deep
And the light is alien
And gravity leaps like a knife off the pavement
And you want to write a song about the moon
You want to write a spiritual tune
Then nah nah nah
Presto
Song about about the moon
If you want to write a song about the heart
Think about the moon before you start
Because the heart will howl
Like a dog in the moonlight
And the heart can explode
Like a pistol on a june night
So if you want to write a song about the heart
And its ever-longing for a counterpart
Write a song about the moon
The laughing boy
He laughed so hard
He fell down from his place
The laughing girl
She laughed so hard
The tears rolled down her face
Hey songwriter
If you want to write a song about
A face
Think about a photograph
That you really cant remember
But you cant erase
Wash your hands in dreams and lightning
Cut off your hair
And whatever is frightening
If you want to write a song
About a face
If you want to write a song about
The human race
Write a song about the moon
If you want to write a song about the moon
You want to write a spiritual tune
Then do it
Write a song about the moon
song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'd Love To Write A Love Poem For You
I'd love to write a poem for you
Want to make it good
I want it to be romantic
As you might think it should
You're a vision in my head
And I can't believe you're real
You attend the U of Sexuality
And got straight A's in sex appeal
You're as metaphorical as a simile.
And poetic like a rhyme.
I'd like to write a poem for you
Got some better ways to spend my time.
Like to hug you or to kiss you
or to give you a ride
To take you out to dinner
or to please you from inside.
Id like to write a poem for you
but I'd rather not instead
I love to drive you all around
While you are giving head.
I love to please you with my fingers
I love to make you scream
I love to write you poetry
Love to see you when I dream.
I'd like to write a poem for you
a love poem, there's no doubt
I like when there is no one home
And you're free to moan and shout
I like it when you call me names
And even when you're sad
Its me you trust to make you smile
And that just makes me glad
I think you're great I think you're hot
I think you think the same
I think its not a lie to say
We'd win, if love's a game.
I'd love to be near you all the time
but that simply ain't the case,
Can't believe it's been 3 weeks
Since I saw that pretty face
I'd love to have you by my side
As I lay on this bed
I shall have to settle for,
Your image in my head
I can't wait to hold you or
to kiss you with my mouth
My life is tops when with you
And without you headed south.
I'd love to write you a love poem
but I'm afraid it seems like jokes
I know you don't like cholesterol
So for your eggs I'll cut out the yokes
When you and I embrace again
I'll hold you oh so tight,
I'll kiss your every skin cell
I'm gonna love you right
I love it when you use your mouth
Especially when I'm baked
I love to look at your body
Especially when its nake'd
I want you so so badly
I miss you so so much
I want you as my lifeline
I need you as my crutch
I'd love to write you a poem
but I'm scared I'd never stop
So I'll just keep on writing
Until my eyelids drop
And then when I arise
I'll probably write some more
And I'll just keep on writing
Until your at my door.
I'm not sure you'll get to this line,
As this poem is f***in' long
So you don't have to read it,
but I'm picturing you in a thong
It looks so very sexy
As on you all things do,
I really want you here with me
I really love you, too.
poem by Les Wordsmore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Did Your Love For Him Last?
i am just wondering why you do not
write poetry anymore. I am asking myself
if your having jumped over the fence
yielded the bliss on the other side of things.
Are you too happy to forget the sad refrains
of poetry?
or Are you too sad
mourning over another
love lost
that your hands are too weary
to write another love poem for this
valentine's day?
whatever happened, please write me a love poem
sad or happy, please do write me one
i just want to know what a love poem should be all about
after all those years
when we think we really found the true one.
write me, please a love poem, show me the color
and scent of each word, show me the texture of each line,
show me whether the heart is bleeding
or leaping with joy like the one we used to write before together
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Prayer
Thick skinned hands peeling like potatoes
If I...
Pull them back
Slowly remove these layers
Of dirty skin
Smelling of earth and rain and sage
I find the sin
The damp unlit room
Covered over by palms tight
Clasped in the middle
Hidden in the folds
Of those hands
poem by Aria Siren
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Would You Like
Tell me you name, tell me your sign.
Please tell me that my mind is right.
I just want to take you to my home.
Where we can talk by a fire all alone.
There's just one thing that I need to know.
Could you ever be there when I woke up,
Or will you be just another and be gone?
Should I buy you a dozen roses?
Should I write you a love poem,
Of how my heart can't stop beating for you?
Should I take you to a lakeside with a romantic dinner?
Would you like candle light flickering in front of us?
Would you like the lovely words that could roll off my tongue?
Would you like me to express how much you mean to me?
Would you like that soft romantic music in the background?
I take one look at you and my heart can't stop smiling.
It begins to display on the outside and my lips curl up.
Looking at you from across the void I can see my life with you.
You take a glance at me and can't help but notice to.
I walk around the corner and fade out of your sight.
I love playing this game.
Should I buy you a dozen roses?
Should I write you a love poem,
Of how my heart can't stop beating for you?
Should I take you to a lakeside with a romantic dinner?
Would you like candle light flickering in front of us?
Would you like the lovely words that could roll off my tongue?
Would you like me to express how much you mean to me?
Would you like that soft romantic music in the background?
You chase me around the corner at the end of the aisle.
And we both meet each other eye to eye.
My hands behind my back.
Can you guess what I've got in mind.
Oh I think you'll be suprized.
You look at me and begin to smile.
Should I buy you a dozen roses?
Should I write you a love poem,
Of how my heart can't stop beating for you?
Should I take you to a lakeside with a romantic dinner?
Would you like candle light flickering in front of us?
Would you like the lovely words that could roll off my tongue?
Would you like me to express how much you mean to me?
Would you like that soft romantic music in the background?
I see the moonlight fall across your face as you sleep.
I take one look at you as my fingers gently stroke your cheek.
You breathe in and breathe out and stir awake.
Looking up at me and smiling all the while.
I bend down and kiss you ever so slowly.
Should I buy you a dozen roses?
Should I write you a love poem,
Of how my heart can't stop beating for you?
Should I take you to a lakeside with a romantic dinner?
Would you like candle light flickering in front of us?
Would you like the lovely words that could roll off my tongue?
Would you like me to express how much you mean to me?
Would you like that soft romantic music in the background?
My lips want to take in every taste it can.
My fingers what to rub your smooth skin.
My eyes want to see all your love dep inside.
And no matter how hard I try.
My mind can't comprehend the beauty within.
If I bought you a dozen roses would you fall in love?
If I wrote you that special love poem would you kiss me tight?
If I took you to a lakeside of of a romantic dinner would you stay the night?
Would you like the candle's flickering lights?
Would you like the expressions of my words rolling off my tongue?
Would you come be with me even though the night's young?
Would you like the kiss that takes the breath away deep within your lungs?
Would you want to be with me through the rest of your life?
Would you want to be with my heart through the beating might?
Would you want to grab my hands and love me through all the bad time?
Would you want to hug me in the anger of emotions and try to fight?
Would you stand within my heart and dance in the spotlight?
Would you like to be with me through the whole night?
Should I buy you a dozen roses?
Should I write you a love poem,
Of how my heart can't stop beating for you?
Should I take you to a lakeside with a romantic dinner?
Would you like candle light flickering in front of us?
Would you like the lovely words that could roll off my tongue?
Would you like me to express how much you mean to me?
Would you like that soft romantic music in the background?
poem by Josh Burnett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rocking the Baby
I hear her rocking the baby--
Her room is next to mine--
And I fancy I feel the dimpled arms
That round her neck entwine,
As she rocks and rocks the baby,
In the room just next to mine.
I hear her rocking the baby
Each day when the twilight comes,
And I know there's a world of blessing and love
In the 'baby by' she hums.
I can see the restless fingers
Playing with 'mamma's rings,'
The sweet little smiling, pouting mouth
That to hers in kissing clings,
As she rocks and sings to the baby,
And dreams as she rocks and sings.
I hear her rocking the baby,
Slower and slower now,
And I hear she is leaving her good-night kiss
On its eyes, and cheek and brow.
From her rocking, rocking, rocking,
I wonder would she start
Could she know, through the wall between us,
She is rocking on a heart?
While my empty arms are aching
For a form they may not press,--
And my empty heart is breaking
In its desolate loneliness.
I list to the rocking, rocking,
In the room just next to mine,
And breathe a prayer in silence,
At a mother's broken shrine,
For the woman who rocks the baby
In the room just next to mine.
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Write Poem
Write write write
And write poem and write
Till you cross the poem
And to cross the poem
You have to write and write
And write.
Look,
Child is here
Moon is here
Look
Here is flower
Here is water
You are here
To write poem
On different color
That give you pleasure
Pleasure is the
Ultimate aim of creature.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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