The Nicest Theme
What’s is the nicest theme to write about?
Girls with blue dresses coming out of the red car
Without panties
The cooperative wind
The onlookers
In their wildest dreams
The excitement of having to see
Reds and blues
And blacks
White too. Shades. Grays and pastels.
Nuns praying the rosary. Priests getting out
Of their habits.
We read a lot. Anything. Magazines.
Comic books. Serious novels. Nice themes.
All about them. Their getting out into the open.
Their darkest hours. Those empty rooms.
Cloud nine. Thirteenth floor.
Whatever.
There is also the nicest thing about
Myself.
Not arrogance. Not self-pity either.
Not the usual secrets. Motels and hideaways.
Islands with white sands. Or having to fly
Kites in the rain.
There is something nice about myself.
But I know you will not like to hear about it.
I am not telling. I am not writing.
There are images. In-between. There is this
Murky river. A painting with nothing but a river.
Think seriously. I am there with you.
I know, you won’t say something.
It is not over yet. But it is not worth any sense.
Forget about it. Let’s move on.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Ain't No Nice Guy
When I was young I was the nicest guy I knew
I thought I was the chosen one
But time went by and I found out a thing or two
My shine wore off as time wore on
I thought that I was living out the perfect life
But in the lonely hours when the truth begins to bite
I though about the times when I turned my back and stalled
I ain't no nice guy after all
When I was young I was the only game in town
I thought I had it down for sure
But time went by and I was lost in what I'd found
The reasons blurred the way unsure
I thought that I was living life the only way
But as I saw that life was more than day to day
I turned around, I read the writing on the wall
I ain't no nice guy after all,
I ain't no nice guy after all
In all the years you spent between your birth and death
You know there's lots of times when you should have saved your breath
It comes as quite a shock when your trip leads to a wall
I ain't no nice guy after all,
I ain't no nice guy after all
Hey Slasher?
When I was young I was the nicest guy I knew
I thought I was the chosen one
But time went by and I found out a thing or two
My shine wore off as time wore on
I thought that I was living out the perfect life
But in the lonely hours when the moons the only light
I thought about the times when I turned my back and
stalled
I ain't no nice guy after all,
I ain't no nice guy after all
song performed by by Ozzy Osbourne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mr. Airing
I know someone,
Who will change your life.
He's sweet and nice,
Has a real big heart.
He cares for everyone.
He cares for everything.
He's the nicest man,
You'll ever meet.
Mr. Airing,
Thanks for everything.
You work really hard.
Funny and nice,
You make my day,
With your smile.
I've never met a more fun,
Librarian.
You read to us and help us.
You make everyone's day.
You're fun, happy, cheerful, and more.
I could say more,
But that would take all day.
So instead I'll say this:
Thanks for everything,
You've done for me.
And thank you for being the nicest,
Sweetest, Happiest Man I've ever met.
You're the best,
Mr. Airing.
poem by Dragon Crenshaw
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Praying To A New God
(feldman / chandler / hues)
What got into you got into me too
What came over you is coming over me
Feel like Ive had enough of all the old stuff
I saw the writing on the wall on my t.v.
Its another second coming, like it or not, yeah,
Oh yeah
Its another second coming, like it or not
You better start praying to a new god
Start praying, praying to a new god
Start praying to a new, new god
Theyre saying the devils got a new job
Start praying to a new--
A lot of babel came down the cable
Everybody can be famous for a day
From shore to shore
A big department store
Is all thats left of the american way
Its another second coming, like it or not, yeah,
Oh yeah
Its another second coming, like it or not
You better start praying to a new god
Start praying, praying to a new god
Start praying to a new, new god
Start praying what are you afraid of
Start praying to a new--
Theres a big world
In the street outside
In their uniform of pride
And theyve all come
To see a star from the east
Is he man or beast?
Decide
Feel like Im crucified, still Im not satisfied
The second coming is coming anyway
I hear them pray for more on every dance floor
I hear the word go out across the milky way
Its another second coming, like it or not, yeah,
Oh yeah
Its another second coming, like it or not
You better start praying to a new god
Start praying, praying to a new god
Start praying to a new, new god
Success and moneys what hes made of
Start praying to a new--
Start praying, praying on the freeway
Start praying to a new, new god
Start praying, praying on the airwaves
Start praying to a new god
Start praying, praying at the back door
Start praying to a new, new god
Start praying, praying on the dance floor
Start praying to a new god
song performed by by Wang Chung
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The writing is on the wall
Now the writing is on the wall
and with the umpteenth killing
a know leader is dead
and dishonoured in hatred
and now the king ask for tranquillity
as if “give me my machinegun
and a bullet for a Boer
and kill a farmer, kill a white”
has no consequence
and I wonder what he wants to do
with his machinegun
(and at the court
blacks cheer killers as heroes)
or is the plan
to kill us one by one quietly?
Or is he begging for a chance
to let the army loose
on white people?
Is he still too stupid
to read the writing
of another blood river
coming almost unstoppable?
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shades Of Grey
If you start here late no one will know what you did
No the streets are straight its the soul thats crooked
Ive been treated fine Ive been treated elegantly
But Im not one for bathing in the waters of plenty
East is east west is west
And bowery is screaming while delancey rests
Well Im south of the skating but Im north of the cash
I could sure use the money but Im ashamed to ask
The traffic has buried all of last nights rain
The words are all different but the accent is the same
The sun is white and the moon is gray
And the river is black blue and green
The young are young and the old are old
And there are no shades of gray in between
Theres at least ten different strains of smoke in the air
And my prints are on them all to prove I was there
And I love the curses but Im not one for the trenches
And I do love the walking but thank God for the benches
Its hard to tell where green begins and the city gray stops
I guess the trees all bought their armor at second hand shops
My second had is working but the minute hand is broke again
I know time will pass but I dont know when
The sun is white and the moon is gray
And the river is black blue and green
The young are young and the old are old
And there are no shades of gray in between
And there are no shades of gray in between
I know the great ones have been here but where I cant tell
Theres dreams here a plenty but theyre being withheld
And Im more impressed with the closed doors than the ones that are open
The whole place tells time by a tower clock thats broken
The pigeons are ravens and the gulls are vultures
And trash is art and cash is culture
The sun is white and the moon is gray
And the river is black blue and green
The young are young and the old are old
And there are no shades of gray in between
There are no shades of gray in between
There are no shades of gray in between
song performed by by Eagle Eye Cherry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Easter Monday [excerpt]
Chicago Morning
To Philip Guston
Under a red face, black velvet shyness
Milking an emaciated gaffer. God lies down
Here. Rattling of a shot, heard
From the first row. The president of the United States
And the Director of the FBI stand over
a dead mule. 'Yes, it is nice to hear the fountain
With the green trees around it, as well as
People who need me.' Quote Lovers of speech unquote. It's
a nice thought
& typical of a rat. And, it is far more elaborate
Than expected. And the thing is, we don't need
that much money.
Sunday morning; blues, blacks, red & yellow wander
In the soup. Gray in the windows' frames. The angular
Explosion in the hips. A huge camel rests
in a massive hand
Casts clouds a smoggish white out & up over the Loop, while
Two factories (bricks) & a fortress of an oven (kiln)
Rise, barely visible inside a grey metallic gust.
'The Fop's Tunic.'
She gets down, off of the table, breaking a few more plates.
Natives paint their insides crystal white here (rooms)
Outside is more bricks, off-white. Europe at Night.
poem by Ted Berrigan
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And She Was Silent But She Knows I Am Defending Her
she has been silent for long like a drifting
cloud, those white feathery ones on a
clear sky, a fine weather
like her disposition today wanting to be left alone so she can think like a deep
river, the dark deep one less the crocodiles that swallow whole her thoughts
and i am considerate about this indifference of a healing
wound, the one that has been there paining her as she puts
more betadiene and red merthiolate because some big flies are coming in
like an uninvited
visitor, the one that does not send you notice and neither brings you
at least a daffodil for your empty vase by the window
well, i know that in your silence you always keep me by your side the defender of your past
lapses, those that give you embarassment, those that almost kill you but i
keep telling you, never mind, never mind, move on, bury the hatchet, bury
the casualties of your sins, let them not come back, you see
i am here, your defender, the one that builds you a good name again,
the one that makes you write some nice poetry, that one that makes you paint
the beauty of sunrise, the redeeming colors that you see when
another sun sets in the west
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Wicked Postman
Why do you sit there on the floor so quiet and silent, tell me,
mother dear?
The rain is coming in through the open window, making you all
wet, and you don't mind it.
Do you hear the gong striking four? It is time for my brother
to come home from school.
What has happened to you that you look so strange?
Haven't you got a letter from father today?
I saw the postman bringing letters in his bag for almost
everybody in the town.
Only father's letters he keeps to read himself. I am sure the
postman is a wicked man.
But don't be unhappy about that, mother dear.
Tomorrow is market day in the next village. You ask your maid
to buy some pens and papers.
I myself will write all father's letters; you will not find
a single mistake.
I shall write from A right up to K.
But, mother, why do you smile?
You don't believe that I can write as nicely as father does!
But I shall rule my paper carefully, and write all the letters
beautifully big.
When I finish my writing do you think I shall be so foolish
as father and drop it into the horrid postman's bag?
I shall bring it to you myself without waiting, and letter by
letter help you to read my writing.
I know the postman does not like to give you the really nice
letters.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Absence
I keep myself occupied
by searching for a job
on the Internet,
writing stories and poems,
taking care and feeding the animals
and sometimes I carry things
to the garage and back
and measure instinctively
about every step
and wonder why
I still care so much for you,
read stories and poetry books
and try to learn
something from other writers.
There are white arum lilies
that grows wild at the river
and on strange places
I see flowers
as if life makes opportunities
for the outcasts
and there are simple things
that I keep me busy with
to try and forget
how empty and painful
your absence becomes
and when we are together
things sometimes get muddled,
but without you
it’s the darkest night.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Final Painting
The white cloud passed over the land
there is sea always round the land
the sky is blue always above the cloud
the cloud in the blue continues to move
- nothing is limited by the canvas or frame -
the white cloud can be pictured like any
other clouds or like a fist of wool
or a white fur rose
The white cloud passes a shadow across
the landscape and so there is a passing greyness
The grey and the white both envelop
the watcher until he too is drawn into the picture
It is all a journey from a room through a door
down stairs and out into the street
The cloud could possess the house
The watchers have a mutual confidence
with the approaching string of white clouds
It is beyond spoken words what they are
silently mouthing to the sky
There was no mystery in this - only the firm
outline of people in overcoats on a hillside
and the line of clouds above them
The sky is blue The cloud white with touches
of grey - the rest - the landscape below -
can be left to the imagination
The whole painting quietly dissolved itself
into its surrounding clouds
poem by Lee Harwood
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River Lilies
Saw a boy three lilies white,
Lilies in the river,
Half heart-open to the light,
Full of golden arrows bright,
Each a silver quiver.
Lilies, lilies, lilies white,
Lilies in the river.
Said the boy, “I’ll pluck you there,
Lilies in the river!”
Said the lilies, “If you dare
You shall drown, or homeward fare
Dripping and a-shiver!”
Lilies, lilies, lilies white,
Lilies in the river.
Wilful still the boy would clasp
Lilies in the river;
Tumbled in ere he could grasp,
Scrambled out with puff and gasp,
Plucked no lilies ever.
Lilies, lilies, lilies white,
Lilies in the river.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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River Death
River was
Running...
With water...
Water are
Nice too
Play with sands...
Trees...
Mountain rocks...
Swmming fishes...
Some time jump
With dive and swime...
Sun was see
Face at river water
Mirror...?
moon was
Click the eye
About
The river....
Animals are swimming
Birds also drinking...
People also
Swmming too
Wash the cloths...
River was
Every day run
Simply not sad...
At rainey time...
At winter time...
Summer time
River not run
Stop to stop
Death the river...
Sky cry...
With rain
Run the river...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Off The Coast Of Maine
Off the coast of Maine with the blues
Like Roy Buchanan bending notes
An old black and white film
The wind is strange
Melodic chimes of sorrow
The sea will always be my friend
Help me feel the ground my love
The price of darkness isn’t worth it
Stark organ like vivid sands
Clouds of coming rain
Beauty like a sermon
Trees blow like a painting
Pure memories flood like rivers
Where is your hand my friend?
We all loose and win
She is there like a decoupage
Soft light glows from a distant farm
Maine is a beautiful place
I just got the blues
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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River Feeling
River feeling is
As simple as
Closing your eyes
For a moment.
Everything flows like river
River feeling is
As smooth as
Everything after
The first step.
Everything flows like river
River feeling is
easy as forgetting
Walking boots.
Everything flows like river
River feeling is
nice as
iron ties
Coming off.
Everything flows like river
Everything flows like river
Everything flows like river
Everything is good and flows
like river
poem by Julian Mann
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Say Something Nice
Say that you like me the way I am
Just take some time out to understand
It may not be much, but I do all I can
Say something nice
Id never do it to one of you
Id say something nice if it wasnt true
Id make you feel better when youre feeling blue
Id say something nice
Say something nice, only once or twice
Say something nice, only once or twice
Say something nice
I wanna hear that Im beautiful
But you wouldnt say it even if I were
Wearing my diamonds and a coat of fur
You wouldnt say nothin nice
Tell me you think that my hairs real nice
Dont stand around and just criticize
Cant you understand that when a person tries
You say something nice
And its oh so hard, oh so hard
To listen to the words that you say
Oh, say something nice, just once or twice
It wouldnt hurt, dont you see
I wanna hear something nice, say something nice
Say something nice, just once or twice
It dont hurt you at all, say something nice
Say something nice baby, only once or twice
Say something nice
Say something nice baby, only once or twice
Say something nice
Hey dont you hear me, hey dont you hear me
Hey dont you hear me, hey dont you hear me
Say something nice
Say something nice
And its oh so hard, and its oh so hard
And Im dying to hear what Ive never heard (fade out)
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Inspire
The nicest thing that happens,
from the writing that I do,
is not publication or smiles,
but the inspiration it brings to others,
to do things they thought they would never do.
It is a joy when someone says,
I read your poem and it inspired me
to write a piece of my own.
To inspire just one person
is a special treat to me.
However, to keep on doing it,
can you imagine how I feel?
One day I might inspire
someone to write a masterpiece,
now would be something special.
poem by David Harris
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In Your Wildest Dreams
(h. knight/ m. chapman)
Producer: trevor horn
Album: wildest dreams (96)
Special guest: antonio banderas (european version)
Special guest: barry white (american version)
The sun goes down
And the moon comes up
My heart is pumping for you
And a mad thing starts
Never in your wildest dreams
Did you ever get this feeling
Never in your wildest dreams
Never in your wildest dreams
Could it ever be this easy
Never in your wildest dreams
The night is hot outside your window
I hear people walking, people talking
I smell your skin, I feel you breathing
Dont let me go, not yet, not yet, not yet, not yet
Never in your wildest dreams
Did you ever get this feeling
Never in your wildest dreams
Never in your wildest dreams
Did it ever get this easy
Never in your wildest dreams
The world is slowly turning
As it turns I see your face, touch your eyes, your lips, space
Weve arrived at the place where they open hearts
And fill them up with love, filled with love, filled with love
This ones pumping for you
As a mad thing starts
Never in your wildest dreams
Did you ever get this feeling
Never in your wildest dreams
Never in your wildest dreams
Did it ever feel this easy
Never in your wildest dreams
(antonio banderas - european version only)
Llegamos a un lugar donde abriremos el corazon
E lo llenaremos con amor, lleno de amor (ooh sacrifice)
El mio palpita por ti
As a mad thing starts (ooh sacrifice)
Oh baby, no baby (ooh sacrifice)
Never in my wildest dreams (ooh sacrifice)
song performed by by Tina Turner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nasty Habits
Heres something to think about
Where would we be without nasty habits, nasty habits
Makes me want to scream and shout
Life would be so dull without nasty habits, nasty habits
All those naughty little things that we dont discuss publicly
Nasty habits, nasty habits
Tell me your secrets, tell me your name, tell me your secrets
Does it please you to employ little girls or little boys
Nasty habits, nasty habits
Do you like to romp and play by yourself when theyre away
Nasty affair what do I care
Do you peek at magazines filled with doggies and leather queens
Nasty habits, nasty habits
Tell me your secrets that no one should hear
Whisper them softly into my ear I wont tell, I wont tell
People act so proper when theyre going bout their business
Cup of coffee, lfriendly conversation
til they get home,
til they get home
Turn the phone off, lock the door and shut the curtains
Make sure that the neighbors are without suspicion
No one will know
No one will know
Nasty habits I must condone
No one knows what I do when Im all alone
Nasty habits Im so ashamed
Nasty habits here to stay now theyll never go away
Try and stop youll have to pay
Nasty habits are here to stay
(repeat chorus)
Nasty habits I must condone
No one knows what I do when Im all alone
Nasty habits Im so ashamed
But we must not let that stop our little game
Nasty habits are so much fun
Nasty habits here to stay now theyll never go away
Try and stop youll have to pay
Nasty habits are here to stay
song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Strolling On The Memory Lane
oh, i went to memory lane
too,
i've seen much already.
i come back to what i am
and what i have become,
i hold on to my vision,
my dreams
i write about hope, and
imagine
my future, another 20 years,
another 30 years more,
i pray,
the memory lane is black and white
and then
it faded like a denim
a murky river where i lift my feet
up above the water
and as i move towards the shore,
i decided, i thought,
the memory lane serves me
no more
it was short, and it will not be
repeated
i wake up, and then i forget.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It Would Be So Nice
It would be so nice
It would be so nice
It would be so nice
To meet, sometime
Everybody wakes, and in the morning
Hot tea and cant stop yawning
Pass the butter please.
Have you ever read the daily standard?
Reading all about the plane thats landed
Upside down?
And no one knows what I did today
There can be no other way
But I would just like to say
It would be so nice
It would be so nice
It would be so nice
To meet sometime
It would be so nice
It would be so nice
It would be so nice
To meet sometime
Everybody cares about the weather
And everybody should know better
What a waste of time
Everybody lives beneath the ceiling
Living out a dream that sends them reeling
To a distant place
But no one knows what I did today
There can be no other way
But I would just like to say
It would be so nice
It would be so nice
It would be so nice
To meet sometime
It would be so nice
It would be so nice
It would be so nice
To meet sometime
It would be so nice
It would be so nice
It would be so nice
To meet sometime
song performed by by Pink Floyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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