The Three Of Them Last Night...
nice watching
it is marcelo and his friend
and they both work
for the pay
gina watches them
last night and she writes a poem
about it
last night...she begins... last night...
she met
love and makes it leave
marcelo and his friend walk away
because gina loves the poem more
marcelo is no writer
to understand what is this poem all about
gina the fading night and marcelo is the
morning and the friend
is a tree carved in the
room of their memories.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Jewels By Marcelo
'Jewels By Marcelo' is
an antique & jewelry store on Lake Ave.
Marcelo carries antiques
like a silver knight with metal abs.
He has a print of Marilyn Monroe-
I have a smaller print in a postcard though.
I sold my ring to Marcelo for he gives the best price around
I had enough money to turn my cell phone back on.
He also gave me a big book called 'Bicentennial Times'
During the 1976 Bicentennial I was at the age of nine.
I just bought a sparkly bracelet from Marcelo today-
it was gold, silver, pink and grey.
Now, I also worked for his partner Carol-
who had a flower shop which was in Marcelo's space-
Carol now works out of her house and slowed down her pace.
Marcelo has 2 sweet children and a lovely wife-
I wish them the best with a prosperous life.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on August 25,2011
poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jewels By Marcelo
"Jewels By Marcelo" is
an antique & jewelry store on Lake Ave.
Marcelo carries antiques
like a silver knight with metal abs.
He has a print of Marilyn Monroe-
I have a smaller print in a postcard though.
I sold my ring to Marcelo for he gives the best price around
I had enough money to turn my cell phone back on.
He also gave me a big book called "Bicentennial Times"
During the 1976 Bicentennial I was at the age of nine.
I just bought a sparkly bracelet from Marcelo today-
it was gold, silver, pink and grey.
Now, I also worked for his partner Carol-
who had a flower shop which was in Marcelo's space-
Carol now works out of her house and slowed down her pace.
Marcelo has 2 sweet children and a lovely wife-
I wish them the best with a prosperous life.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on August 25,2011
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gina
Love always seemed an illusion to me
I could never make things fit
But now that thought turned around
Cause everything feels so right
You see I met you on this big day
I saw your face and got filled with emotion
So now the sky seems a different blue
Cause I know my heart belongs to you
Ohh Gina
Could you look at me once more
Before you walk out of that door
Ohh Gina
Just wanna look you in the eye
Cause I can't stand sayin' goodbye
I know it would be hard for us to be
Couldn't we just give it a shot
But I know your heart must agree
Just wanna love you till the end of time
Ohh Gina
Could you look at me once more
Before you walk out of that door
Ohh Gina
Just wanna look you in the eye
Cause I can't stand sayin' goodbye
Don't know how it's gonna be
Don't know what I've gotta do
I'm just tryin' to let you see
That I'm giving this heart to you
Ohh Gina
Could you look at me once more
Before you walk out of that door
Ohh Gina
Come close in my arms tonight
I know that love has never died
Ooh Gina
Just wanna look you in the eye
I just can't stand sayin' goodbye
Ohh Gina
Ohh Gina
Ohh Gina
Just wanna look you in the eye
And never ever say goodbye
song performed by by K-otic from Bulletproof
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There Is A Poem No Morning Can Right
There is a poem no morning can right
It is the poem of the night
It is a dark poem and a deep poem
A poem of unrest and unquiet
It does not know its own name
And redefines itself through indecipherable disturbing dreams-
The poem of the night
Is not the poem I want to write-
But some nights it writes me without my asking for it-
And when the morning comes
I invariably rush to something else
So it may be erased.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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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
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The Morning Writes Its Own Poem
THE MORNING WRITES ITS OWN POEM
The morning writes its own poem
The light is its poem
We need the light of the morning
After the long darkness of night
The morning is hope
The morning is beginning
The morning is a new day
A new world -
We need the morning
And we need to begin again
And we need to feel life has hope
And we need to love the world
And to believe that walking out into it
Begins another day.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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O Let Me Have A Late- Night Poem
O LET ME HAVE A LATE- NIGHT POEM
O let me have a late- night poem
A way of saying goodbye
To all the thousands of jumbled feelings of today
To all the music and the beauty of everyday life
To all the quiet haunting search for some great epiphany
To all the letdown and the loss and the fading
In the small errands of daily duty.
Let me have a late night poem
Which hints at the sense of loss
The question of why so much so beautiful
Must die
Why each of us is a passing fragment only.
Let me have a late night poem
For all my sorrow and prayer my pleading to God
A poem to say goodnight and goodbye
Because I too in yet another day ahead
Will understand why
We must all die.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Poem Came To Me In The Night
MY POEM CAME TO ME IN THE NIGHT
My poem came to me in the night
Long after I should have gone to sleep
It came with darkness inside and a fear of darkness deeper still-
It was a poem of the end of the earth
A dark poem
The last poem of the day and perhaps the last poem of forever-
It came to me in the night
And made me write it down gently
And said because there is no time left
It is impossible to add on to it
Or give it true character and feeling.-
The poem of the night and its darkness
Stilled me into vulnerable silence
And I slept and went to sleep
Far from the page I wrote.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Will I Have A Poem Tonight?
WILL I HAVE A POEM TONIGHT?
Will I have a poem tonight?
Or will tiredness take me to bed
Without an answer?
Will I be able to find within myself
Some sounds of meaning
Some hint of beauty?
Something deeper than the darkness outside
As real as the longing within?
The poem which is written about the poem which is not
Is the poem which is written about the poem which is
And the poem which is
Is tonight the poem of the night
And the poem of the night tonight
Is the poem this poem is.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poem Of The Night
The Poem of the Night
The poem of the night
is a quiet poem.
It listens only
to itself.
It calls no one;
It remains as it is
where it is,
waiting with the subtle light
which makes it mean
what Beauty does.
The Poem of the Night
is a quiet life
and a light of Love
Looking at God's world
and smiling at it-
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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He Who Is Too Tired For A Poem At Night
HE WHO IS TOO TIRED FOR A POEM AT NIGHT
He who is too tired for a poem at night
May find in the morning
A poem effortlessly, mysteriously comes.
The light alone may be the poem
The promise of a new day
The beginning.
The poem may be
That one is alive again
And that the world too
Seems to want to say with the day
Something different.
The poem may be inherent in who we are
And what the world is.
It may come to us
As the sun rises
And may be for all of us
A new day.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An Evening Poem
AN EVENING POEM
An evening poem
Waits for deeper darkness
A night poem knows blackness
As home.
A morning poem is light
An afternoon poem is thick with heat.
All times have a poem
And all seasons poems also
All lives are poems
And all stories also.
We all are and all know poems
Poems pervade us
And the universe.
It is night now
But when the morning comes
Its poem will overshadow now.
What a brave new world it is
With so many poems in it
And what a life-
With such deep sadness
Waiting forever to be unexpressed.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Poem Can The Night Bring?
WHAT POEM CAN THE NIGHT BRING?
What poem can the night bring?
The poem of darkness?
The poem of silence?
The poem of infinite unrest?
What poem can the night bring?
When the night itself does not know its own meaning,
And all its quiet darkness says only:
A man alone cannot live as one.
A man alone can only write,
Until somewhere else
Somehow
He is heard.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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A Poem At The End Of The Day
A POEM AT THE END OF THE DAY
A poem at the end of the day
Cannot have the hope
Of a morning poem.
A poem at the end of the day
Has to have weariness in it
And sadness
And fear.
The night is coming
But no one knows what the night will be.
A poem at the end of the day
Does not know if it will ever see the morning.
It has fear in it
And I would not write it,
Were it not
The end of the day now.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Does The Night Have A Poem?
DOES THE NIGHT HAVE A POEM?
Does the Night have a poem?
Is there anything worth saying now?
To hear the Quiet is a kind of poem,
But I do not know-
The Night says the Wind now,
But is a small breeze enough
To make Heart and Mind
Come to Life again?
The Night is silent now
And Darkness is no answer either.
Night, Quiet, Sound, Light, Love,
The Beauty of simply being alive.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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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
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He Walks Without A Poem
HE WALKS WITHOUT A POEM
He walks without a poem
There is no poem in his mind
No poem in his heart.
But the idea of a poem
The dream of a poem
The daily task of a poem
The justification given by a poem-
He stops and writes these words down.
All around him
the morning light sings songs
of the things
of this world.
A poem perhaps?
Perhaps not?
I
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Wanted A Poem For The Morning
I wanted a poem for the morning
A poem to begin the day with-
A poem which would give my life hope -
I wanted a poem
Which would say I am alive
A good poem a kind poem
A poem which would make others a bit more happy-
And as so often
I wrote a poem
And left it as a question for the longer daylight and
the longer night which also is our life
beyond the morning-
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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