Rickshaw
barrow, buggy, curricle,
dolly, dray, gig, gurney,
handcart, palanquin, pushcart,
tilbury, truck, tumbrel, two-wheeler,
wagon,
stop in there
there is this red wheelbarrow
and it looks like
a poem to me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
A Wheelbarrow
a wheelbarrow
is a mere wheelbarrow
even if it is not
red or glazed
with rain water
it is
what it is
just a wheelbarrow
but look beneath
ourselves in the forest of our wanderings
there are trees there
growing in the dampness of darkness
looking for light
a river comes flooding
that is where
meaning sprouts
upsurging emotions
now without walls coming before your fences
a wheelbarrow
is not the same wheelbarrow anymore
emotions
your emotions made it
for not what it is
transmutation
from William to you and this world
looks not familiar
anymore
petals of meanings
red so real
thorns and stalks and dews
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Truck Stop Blues
A truck stop in kansas with nowhere to to many days without
Any shows 5 cups of coffee as I just sit and mold its 4 am as
I sip from my cup its 5 am the suns coming up my body has
Shifted to the touring mode trying to sleep in the van on the road
I gotta find a place to call home Ive got the truck stop blues
Taking care of myself paying my dues living life day by day ive
Got the truck stop blues dont think Id have it any other way
song performed by by NOFX
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
John Evereldown
"Where are you going to-night, to-night, --
Where are you going, John Evereldown?
There's never the sign of a star in sight,
Nor a lamp that's nearer than Tilbury Town.
Why do you stare as a dead man might?
Where are you pointing away from the light?
And where are you going to-night, to-night, --
Where are you going, John Evereldown?"
"Right through the forest, where none can see,
There's where I'm going, to Tilbury Town.
The men are asleep, -- or awake, may be, --
But the women are calling John Evereldown.
Ever and ever they call for me,
And while they call can a man be free?
So right through the forest, where none can see,
There's where I'm going, to Tilbury Town."
"But why are you going so late, so late, --
Why are you going, John Evereldown?
Though the road be smooth and the path be straight,
There are two long leagues to Tilbury Town.
Come in by the fire, old man, and wait!
Why do you chatter out there by the gate?
And why are you going so late, so late, --
Why are you going, John Evereldown?"
"I follow the women wherever they call, --
That's why I'm going to Tilbury Town.
God knows if I pray to be done with it all,
But God is no friend to John Evereldown.
So the clouds may come and the rain may fall,
The shadows may creep and the dead men crawl, --
But I follow the women wherever they call,
And that's why I'm going to Tilbury Town."
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
There Is No Poem
there is no poem that can stop
this mess
this furniture of the room are not in place
the table is under the rain
outside
the chairs are crumpled like paper
in the drain
the books are opening their pages to the skies
the pens are shooting like
arrows in the air
no one can stop the dead
not this poem that only counts
those who want to be buried
no one can stop the grief
not this poem, not that poem
no poem can stop the flood of all emotions
no poem can resist
the burden of carrying all these
like a carriage like a coffin.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Repetitive Of A Nostalgia, A Moment Ago
there is no poem that can stop
this mess
this furniture of the room are not in place
the table is under the rain
outside
the chairs are crumpled like paper
in the drain
the books are opening their pages to the skies
the pens are shooting like
arrows in the air
no one can stop the dead
not this poem that only counts
those who want to be buried
no one can stop the grief
not this poem, not that poem
no poem can stop the flood of all emotions
no poem can resist
the burden of carrying all these
like a carriage like a coffin.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sneakin' Around
(((((From the movie The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas)))))
((((Dolly Parton & Burt Reynolds sings))))
DOLLY:I like fancy,frilly things
High-heeld shoes and diamond rings
Ragtime bands and western swing
And sneakin' around with you
BURT:Well I like beer and rodeos
Detective books and dominoes
Footballgames and Cheerios
And sneakin' around with you
DOLLY & BURT:Sneakin' around with you
Goin' a round or two
Doin' what lovers do
Whenever they're sneakin' around
DOLLY:I like lots of cash on hand
And dirty jokes about the Fuller Brush Man
BURT:I like stuff I understand,like sneakin' around with you
DOLLY:You know I like a thrill that has no strings
BURT:Friendship that don't ever change
DOLLY:And laughter from the joy of things
DOLLY & BURT:And sneakin' around with you
Sneakin' around with you
Goin' a round or two
Doin' what lovers do
Whenever they're sneakin' around
DOLLY:I like drive-in picture shows
Kissin' long and lovin' slow
BURT:The secret places lovers go,whenever they're sneakin' around
DOLLY:I like the crazy things we try
BURT:And the sexy things we fantasie
DOLLY:Just a-makin' out in the broad daylight
DOLLY & BURT:And sneakin' around with you
Sneakin' around with you
Keeping it all brand-new
Gettin' the best of you
Whenever we're sneakin' around
Sneakin' around that's all
DOLLY:I'm gonna lay down the law
BURT:Watchin' the rise and fall
DOLLy & BURT:Of lovers sneaking' around
BURT:We're just sneaking' around
DOLLY:Oh we're just
DOLLY & BURT:Sneakin'!
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Óhjákvæmilegur
You haven’t experienced riding in a car meeting a ten-wheeler truck
Surprisingly on a curve
And the driver beside you slept,
You see the truck approaching the car
Where you are inside it,
Something sure singles you out
The unalterable, the inevitable
The collision that could not be evaded,
In that experience, you know what
Inevitable was, you closed your eyes
It was a miracle
You survived.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
They All Went To Mexico
Wheres my pal, wheres my friend
All good things must have an end
Sad things and nothings
On and on they go
I guess he went to mexico
Chorus:
They all went to mexico
Buenas dias, got to go
Tengo que obedecer
Mi corazon
They all went to mexico
Wheres my mule, wheres my dray
Straw hats packed up and gone
Away
Mule dont go north and dray go slow
They both went to mexico
Wheres my sweetie, wheres the face
That lit dark corners every place
She put up with me long time you know
And then she had to go to mexico
Chorus
Wheres my brown dog, wheres my hound
He liked my truck he hung around
But hes a canine romeo
And I guess he went to mexico
Wheres that woman so sweet, so mean
Her heart was cautious her mind was keen
She was always looking for the peccadillo
I hope she went to mexico
Chorus
Wheres decembers happy crew
With german bikes and sidecars too
They take the truck south to st. louis, mo
Motorcycle all the way to mexico
Wheres my luck, wheres my grace
Has it all been just a foolish chase
Every time I hear that rainy chill wind blow
I think it might be time to head to mexico
song performed by by Santana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
A Poem Is Just A Poem
a poem is just a poem and if it is just a poem
it must be just a poem just like another poem
a poem is nothing but just a poem otherwise
it cannot be my poem; it may speak about
anything, or something, or about everything,
but my poem is just a poem just like anybody's
poem, which is just but a poem, like any other
poem, for a poem to be a poem it must just be
a poem: it has nothing to do with my love, and death
my life, or bliss, but as i have told you, once, twice
thrice, eat some rice, and be that wise, a poem is
just a poem, just like your poem. Why do you insist
on asking, what is happening to me? I am not a
poem, for i am but just the composer of the poem,
need i tell you again, that a poem is just a poem?
just like any other poem, which is just a poem
it is just a voice in my head that i have heard
someone comes and speaks and i listen so
this poem is not actually my poem but the poem
of someone else's: theirs not mine, from a mind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Women are like cars: we all want a Ferrari, sometimes want a pickup truck, and end up with a station wagon.
This Poem
THIS POEM
This poem
This first poem
This last poem
This poem that invented Poetry
This one and only one poem
This fictional poem
This ideal poem
This perfect poem
This would – be holy poem
This unreal poem
This poem which is not a poem
This poem which is the essence of all poetry
This poem
And that poem
And my poem
And your poem
And all poems
Poem poem poem poem poem
This poem
Mine and yours
This one small poem of so so many
And not such a good poem at all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The wagon
I pushed a wagon through a muddy road
I pushed and I pulled all for naught
The wagon did not move nor did it stir
Its rear wheels stack in the murky mire
I withdraw thinking...
This wagon did not want to see the truth
This is why it will never change course or move
A wagon is a wagon
It trots the roads or be dragged on
It lives its life and endures its truth
It is only me
From whom the truth may hide
This plain truth engraved on a rock
Yet boggles taunts and tantalize in a mock
copy rights 2010
The Making Up
Little Miss Margaret sits in a pout,
She and her Dolly have just fallen out.
Dolly is gazing with sorest stare,
Fitted dejectedly back in her chair.
Angry at Margaret, tearful and grieved,
Sore at the spanking so lately received.
Pursed are the maiden's lips close as can be,
They are not speaking, Miss Dolly and she.
Five minutes passes in silence and then,
Margaret's ready for playing again.
Dolly unbendingly sits in her place,
Never a change coming over her face.
Up mad goes, Margaret dropping her pout,
Clasping her playmate she whispers in doubt.
Let's don't play and cry, it's too much like true,
Let's make up Dolly I ain't mad is you?
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
La Dolly Vita
i lay my head on her bosom
to cry myself to sleep
i see no greater wisdom
than she has given me
la dolly vita
sweet as true love
la dolly vita
cool as ice cream
cool as ice cream
you hear a lot of visions
you can't even stop
can't see what you're missing
spinning like a top
fade away
song performed by by Smashing Pumpkins from Tristessa
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Poem.
I do not like the silly poem,
I do not like the angsty poem,
I do not like the ridiculous poem,
I do not like the damned poem,
I do not like the cheesy poem,
I do not like the random poem,
Or the epic poem,
Or the dandy poem,
Or the long poem,
Or the short poem,
Or the stupid poem,
Or the rude poem,
Or the useless poem,
Or the wordless poem,
Or the poem poem,
Or the poem poem's daughter,
Or the word, Poem,
I like the story.
poem by Aisha Patterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Poem.
I do not like the silly poem,
I do not like the angsty poem,
I do not like the ridiculous poem,
I do not like the damned poem,
I do not like the cheesy poem,
I do not like the random poem,
Or the epic poem,
Or the dandy poem,
Or the long poem,
Or the short poem,
Or the stupid poem,
Or the rude poem,
Or the useless poem,
Or the wordless poem,
Or the poem poem,
Or the poem poem's daughter,
Or the word, Poem,
I like the story.
poem by David Carter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
This Mummy Is Ready
There's one day a year
That I'm allowed to beg for treats.
My dog does it all the time.
It's amazing how much he eats.
I just might get aches and pains
From carrying my candy around.
In the Halloween record book,
I'd like my name to be found.
I've got a wheelbarrow, a wagon,
A donkey, and a yak.
I'll have tons and tons of candy
By the time I come back.
Everything is ready.
I'm a well-prepared mummy.
Who is going to stock up
On yummies for his tummy.
poem by Bruce Larkin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Beautiful, Antique Dollies
Beautiful, antique dollies
All stand in a row,
Laced with ornamental pretence,
Staring from the window.
Each beautiful, antique dolly,
Bears her beautiful, antique price,
For her pretty, satin ribbon
And her vacant, azure eyes.
One beautiful, antique dolly,
With her frosted, golden curls,
Is severed from the window,
For her reflection in a girl.
Now this beautiful, antique dolly,
Stands, no longer on her shelf,
Her ivory face is glowing
As she adorns by herself.
All the other antique dollies,
In the window where they stay
Whisper after midnight
Of the dolly that went away.
Our beautiful, antique dolly
Rooted in her antique home
Watermarks her china skin
She hates to be alone.
One beautiful, antique dolly,
Breaks her brilliant, painted smile,
Climbs down from her silver stand
And shatters on the tile.
poem by Victoria Annette Bailey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Negligent Mary
AH, Mary! what, do you for dolly not care?
And why is she left on the floor?
Forsaken, and cover'd with dust, I declare;
With you I must trust her no more.
I thought you were pleased, as you took her so gladly,
When on your birthday she was sent;
Did I ever suppose you would use her so sadly?
Was that, do you think, what I meant?
With her bonnet of straw you once were delighted,
And trimm'd it so pretty with pink;
But now it is crumpled, and dolly is slighted:
Her nurse quite forgets her, I think.
Suppose now–for Mary is dolly to me,
Whom I love to see tidy and fair–
Suppose I should leave you, as dolly I see,
In tatters, and comfortless there.
But dolly feels nothing, as you do, my dear,
Nor cares for her negligent nurse:
If I were as careless as you are, I fear,
Your lot, and my fault, would be worse.
And therefore it is, in my Mary, I strive
To check every fault that I see:
Mary's doll is but waxen–mamma's is alive,
And of far more importance than she.
poem by Ann Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
We Couldn't Stop Laughing
we hid out in my room
we ate candy
and we couldn’t stop laughing
we joked around
we told our stories
and we couldn’t stop laughing
we looked into the distance
we opened the window
and we couldn’t stop laughing
there was a UPS truck
i stuck my feet out the window
thinking it was a trash truck
and we couldn’t stop laughing
we looked at old yearbooks
we told “do you remember when” stories
and we couldn’t stop laughing
we laughed at each other
we laughed at ourselves
and we couldn’t stop laughing
we laughed at the past
at the present and future
so as friends,
we couldn’t stop laughing