The Why In You...
when you get old with no one
to talk to
because everyone is living their own lives
lighting their own dark homes
brewing coffee and indulge in the most trivial arguments
about life
it is proper timing that you begin to scribble
recall, recoil, rebound, reverse, modify
scramble the letters of your past life
and write
your own tapestry in poetry,
and you do not tell them when in the next morning
you are wearing a smile
something that they cannot figure out
why.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Rebound
And they dont come any closer. and they dont come
Anyway.
On the rebound on the rebound on the rebound on the
Rebound on the rebound on the rebound on the rebound
On the rebound on the rebound on the rebound on the
Rebound on the rebound on the rebound on the rebound on
The rebound on the rebound
The chronicle hasnt changed for fifteen years. the
Apathetic outnumber volunteers. the grime on buildings is
Just a memory. a shining face on the old academy.
Have a lovely day. aftermath okay. have a lovely day. wipe
Your tears away.
The gaze of laughter, an echo or a scream. the
Reinforcement of someone elses theme. turn and walk
Without ever saying no. light and dark in an even ratio.
Have a lovely day. aftermath okay. have a lovely day. wipe
Your tears away.
On the rebound on the rebound on the rebound on the
Rebound on the rebound on the rebound on the rebound
On the rebound
And they dont come any closer. and they dont come
Anyway.
On the rebound on the rebound on the rebound on the
Rebound on the rebound on the rebound on the rebound
On the rebound on the rebound on the rebound on the
Rebound on the rebound on the rebound on the rebound on
The rebound on the rebound
On the rebound on the rebound on the rebound on the
Rebound on the rebound on the rebound on the rebound
On the rebound on the rebound on the rebound on the
Rebound on the rebound on the rebound on the rebound on
The rebound on the rebound
song performed by by Human League
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Wrong Timing
when you got in
i went out
such is the wrong timing
of your
compassion
then we talk
about the proper timing
of our desires
you set the time, the place, and the mood
now it is not just desire but
love
yes, love,
but sometimes i still wonder
what love is
when two people meet at the proper time
the proper place, and the proper mood
when everything seems right
and yet
feels so wrong
when everything is supposedly proper
and yet
there is still this
feeling of impropriety
i am 48 years old and you are 49
and i am just asking
when we all want to be inside the room of
ecstacy
and yet
they all want us
out
just because they also feel
that the timing may be right
but it simply does not
look all right
and then you are a little bit irritated and you ask
finally:
why do you talk too much?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
432
When You Got In
I Went Out
Such Is The Wrong Timing
Of Your
Compassion
Then We Talk
About The Proper Timing
Of Our Desires
You Set The Time, The Place, And The Mood
Now It Is Not Just Desire But
Love
Yes, Love,
But Sometimes I Still Wonder
What Love Is
When Two People Meet At The Proper Time
The Proper Place, And The Proper Mood
When Everything Seems Right
And Yet
Feels So Wrong
When Everything Is Supposedly Proper
And Yet
There Is Still This
Feeling Of Impropriety
I Am 48 Years Old And You Are 49
And I Am Just Asking
When We All Want To Be Inside The Room Of
Ecstacy
And Yet
They All Want Us
Out
Just Because They Also Feel
That The Timing May Be Right
But It Simply Does Not
Look All Right
And Then You Are A Little
Bit Irritated And You Ask
Finally
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Movement Calls Poetry
a cry calls poetry;
a movement brings forth poetry;
an anguish, a pleasure
a response, a conditioning
bring forth poetry;
craving, disgust
forward movement, and recoil
a mental formation
a delight, an irritation call forth poetry:
and poetry becomes mere froth
on the coffee-cup of living
poem by Raj Arumugam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
On The Rebound
On the rebound, on the rebound
Thats how you fell for me
Thats how you changed my life
You cut me like a knife
On the rebound, on the rebound
You came, you saw, you took
It only took one look
And lady, I was hooked
On the rebound - its a replay ...
Your love was on the rebound
On the rebound
You came and took my soul
You came and left a hole
Where your love used to be
On the rebound, on the rebound
You like to drown in your tears
And after all these years
You give your pain to me
On the rebound - you came to me, babe
On the rebound - to set you free
On the rebound - too bad for me
Your love was on the rebound
You came to me
To set you free
To pray for me
Its a replay
You came to repay
Its a replay
To set you free
Just a replay
Your love was
Just a replay
song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Love Me - Love My Poetry
I once wrote some poetry - the best,
the finest POETRY
My POETRY came with a capital
"P".
My POETRY was distinguished
POETRY, proper, complete line of
Verse POETRY - honorable,
prehistoric, geographical POETRY
Divine, instinctive, even religious
POETRY -
I sent it to the magazines
The very good magazines
The very best magazines -
They returned it to me every time!
I once wrote some inferior POETRY
Low in style, irregular in measure
POETRY
Undignified, trivial, absurd POETRY
inadequate, mischievous, comic
POETRY
Some stuff like this - A CRIME -
I sent it to the magazines
The very good magazines
The very best magazines
They kept it every time!
Now, I ask of you - my question is
fair and brief - I ask
Of you - your ear I pray and beg you
give -
Shall I write intuitive,
comprehensive, reasoning
POETRY
Specific, Godlike, Capitol
committed POETRY
The sort I think will live?
Or shall I write inferior, very bad
POETRY - the kind that soon is
Dead - and send it to the magazines,
the very good, the best magazines
THAT I MAY LIVE INSTEAD!!!
poem by Bonnie Alden Phillips
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Carry On
1st VERSE:
There was something in your eyes that I saw tonight,
I never thought that I would see it,
Now there's holes in my walls and there's glass on the floor
And you said you didn't mean it.
You went from zero to none in these past three months on your level of affection
I ain't gonna be that girl that cries herself to sleep putting up with your rejection cause,
CHORUS:
I can't carry on living life like this, (living like this)
This can't be what it is,
I don't wanna live my life like this (2x)
2nd VERSE:
When I try to make sense out of what we have I always fall into depression
Because I know in my heart that we both grown apart ain't no use of us pretending
We never talk on the phone and you're never at home and if you are there's always tension,
I ain't gonna be that girl that ends up staying sitting around just regretting cause,
CHORUS:
I can't carry on living life like this, (living life like this)
This can't be what it is,
I don't wanna live my life like this (2x)
3rd VERSE:
I'm tired of fighting,
I'm tired of spiting,
My life is a storm full of raining and lighting my insides are pleading from all of the screaming sometimes I just feel like I'm no longer breathing.
I look in your eyes all I see is a demon,
I'm tired of wearing my heart on my sleeve and I just don't know why I stay cause day after day I continue to say
CHORUS:
I can't carry on living life like this, (living like this)
This can't be what it is,
I don't wanna live my life like this (2x)
song performed by by Ashanti
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Coffeehouse bar stewardess
She blooms in the morning like a coffee flower.
I like that rare flavor and I peep there frequently.
I sit on a bar stool and wait for her to bring my elixir.
When I sip that with a straw I feel like getting more courage
To fight with the Devil's day.
I have been in one evening but she wasn't there and the following morning too.
I gossiped and verified that she already left the place for better prospects.
Since that gloomy day the coffee tasted me bitter like rusty life
And sometimes I drink without a straw.
I scribble on the table mat with a pencil stub.
Let the tricky life turns into a fairy tale to you!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
There Are Days No Poem Can Be Written
THERE ARE DAYS NO POEM CAN BE WRITTEN
There are days no poem can be written
Grief and worry frighten the poem away
Yet the poem lives hidden
For our darkest moments our loneliest fears
Too need their poetry.
Poetry is a way of saying all we need to say
It is our deepest feeling most deeply expressed
It is all we are
The whole of our being
In words.
When a poet dies
Words die
When I will die
All I am will no longer be able to write
One more poem.
How afraid I am in the night
And how dark in the early morning before I rise
But now that I am here
Writing this
A bit of hope begins in me
And I can dream that
When I walk out the door
a few minutes from now
A new day will begin.
How many days I have left
How many poems to write
I do not know.
It is not light yet
And the darkness is still here
But I will feel the morning again
This morning
Thank G-d
You have given me so many poems.
A few small words
help me believe
I truly am alive.
.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Poetry Blog
my daily online
poetry, a blog
of nothing but
thoughts of
stone, petal,
raindrop,
a threadlike
composition
of colors
and scents
and personalized
designs
depicting
mood swings
moral, amoral
or otherwise
goes and goes
like a train
of thoughts
day by day
chronologically
relevant
trying always
to figure out
who am i
really
it is not to entice
or corrupt
it is merely
a signification of
here i am
are you there too?
no climbing
of ladders
or blowing of horns
no choir
of angels
or boasting
of this
oh my God
what a coincidence
you think
the way i think
nope, there is nothing
worthy of my poetry
even myself
this write, all the poems
but a poetry blog
and so by now
express your angst
shout, rage,
cool dude, subdue
subdued
a stream
of consciousness
the turtle swimming in the
deepest part of
this ocean
clouds like cotton
submerging
to your pond
i watch, yes, let me watch
i speak, yes, let me speak
truly, i am not interested,
i write,
because i have something to write,
this destiny,
of i cannot get away,
yes, call me a rambling thought,
i am, i am, i am
it is all about, this i am, i am, i am,
today, i am, i am feeling this heaviness
and you sit
in the dark corner, telling me,
why do you write poetry,
and yet here i am dying, and you do not really mind.....
i beg of you,
do not try to figure out, to understand, i beg
of you,
this is nothing, go away, go somewhere
i am a cloud, i drift, i am this space groping for letters,
a word will not do, i beg, i beg of you.....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Show Me How To Live
In with the early dawn
Moving right along
I couldnt buy an eye of sleep
And in the aching night
Under satellite
I was not recieved
With the stolen parts
A telephone in my heart
Someone get me a priest
To put my mind to bed
This ringing in my head
Is this a cure is or is this a disease
Hey hey I said
Near as I can figure
You gave me life now
Show me how to live
Hey hey I said
Near as I can figure
You gave me life now
Show me how to live
In the afterbirth
On the quiet earth
Let this things remind me
You thought you made amend
You better think again
Before my row defines you
Hey hey I said
Near as I an figure
You gave me life now show me how to live
Hey hey I said
Near as I can figure
You gave me life now
Show me how to live
And in your waiting hands
I will land
And roll out of my skin
And in your final hours I will stand
Ready to begin
Ready to begin
Ready to begin
Ready to begin
Hey hey I said
Near as I can figure
You gave me life now
Show me how to live
Hey hey I said
Near as I can figure
You gave me life now
Show me how to live
Show me how to live
Show me how to live
Show me how to live
Show me how to live
song performed by by Audioslave
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Can The Middle Of The Darkest Night/Be Morning?
CAN THE MIDDLE OF THE DARKEST NIGHT/ BE MORNING?
Can the middle of the darkest night
Be morning?
Can we begin again
When all seems lost?
Is there a way out
When there seems no way out?
The dark rain falls and the dark rain gives all living things life
But in the middle of the night
Inside
The warmth and the walls say all.
Can we begin again?
Can I begin again?
I don’t know.
Morning light will come again to the world.
But will it come for me?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What Poetry Is
Poetry is giving Life the foundation to
Sustain it's self, to give Life the water for
Growth.
Poetry is showing Life all of what the
World is like, to show Life how to
Survive.
Poetry is explaining to Life that the
Smallest details make all the difference,
To explain to Life, Life isn't Life without
Living.
Poetry then tells Life to Live.
poem by Andrew Phillips
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Poem Written By A Confessed Bipolar (her Name To Be Revealed Upon Her Permission)
I write because I can
I write because there are so many things to be written.
I write because I can make a painting without a brush and paints in my hand.
I write because I can capture the moment without having a camera.
I write because letters and words are the only recipe I know how to cook.
I write because I want to read what I’ve written.
I write because I’m used to speak in silence.
I write because I have a story to tell.
I write because I want to strip off my flesh and live as a pure being.
I write because I can record my “voice” without having a recorder.
I write because it’s like a cup of coffee, it keeps me awake
I write because I want to live even when I do not exist.
I write because this is my throwing stones when I’m frustrated.
6/11/09 at 4: 42 PM
I write because I can flaunt my being when I don’t have clothes to show off.
I write because this is like making an encyclopedia to a coloring book.
I write because it’s more effective than my lithium medication.
I write because I’m tired of carrying these baggages on the road.
I write because I’m tired of talking too much.
I write because it’s a healthier diversion than smoking.
I write because it’s more therapeutic than analyzing my problem.
I write because I want to paint a thousand pictures with words.
I write because I can put colors to the letters and make a rainbow of words.
I write because it’s the key combinations to my hidden vaults.
I write because my ball pen is my best friend in the darkest nights.
I write because it surprises me with what I am capable of thinking&doing. 6/11/09 at 4: 43 PM
I write because I like that ideas are popping like pop corns.
I write because I can wander in the adventures of my own world.
I write because I have to cleanse my collection of memories of an old home.
I write because like a mirror you need to do a lot of reflections.
I write because I want to fight the battle of life.
I write because I wanted my little voice to be heard.
I write because I want to run from the insanities of the world.
I write because pictures don’t talk.
I write because it helps me connect the dots when I look back in my life.
I write because it brings me back to my crib of silence.
I write because it makes a buzz to other bees in my beehive.
I write because unlike my bike my destination is limitless.
I write because I want to become an inspiration without extinction 6/11/09 at 4: 43 PM
I write because like strumming of the guitar, it vibrates in my soul.
I write because I love to write.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet: Helmet-wearing Does Save Lives
A priceless brain resides within the skull,
From which the neural control reach each part!
–A living computer that takes each call,
And keeps all organs working fine, and heart.
A brain that’s smashed in accidents can’t work,
Nor can damaged a brain-box serve purpose;
Surrounding waters take brain off each jerk:
Protect each part in correct ways, God does.
When science has shown brain-injuries so rife,
Can be averted wearing helmets good,
Why not protect your God-given one life,
By putting proper cover like a hood?
Like how a shield protects one from a knife,
Yes, helmet-wearing saves your limbs and life!
‘Helmet-wearing does save lives! ’
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Why Do I Write Poetry?
Why do I write Poetry?
The answer is not plain to see,
As a Legal Cashier I earn my Living,
For me and my family.
Why do I write Poetry?
Thoughts come to me in rhyme and verse,
They have to be worked on continually
To make those lines seem terse.
Why do I write Poetry?
One day HE’ll answer me,
Hopefully while I’m on this Earth,
Before I reach Eternity.
Why do I write Poetry?
Why must my lines scan and rhyme?
Not only on this occasion,
But forever, and all the time.
Why do I write Poetry?
Why put them on your website?
To leave my Thoughts and Visions of Life,
To you all and posterity.
© Jonathan Goldman [JGthepoet] - 9 April 2005
poem by Jonathan Goldman a.k.a JGthepoet
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Coffee!
Coffee beans all ground up,
Coffee in my favourite cup,
Coffee black, coffee white,
Coffee dark, coffee light,
Coffee right, to start the day,
Coffee at work, coffee at play,
Coffee midday, coffee at night,
Coffee to sober, coffee to excite,
Coffee weak, coffee strong,
But maybe instead some Lapsang Souchong! ! ! !
TEA! ! ! ! !
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lines to a poet of middling age
You are now too old
to indulge in arrogance
and yet you are too young
to have anything to be arrogant about
you are in mortal peril
at the midpoint of a life
which is not a life
which has no past and no future
for you are not present in it
yet grace abounds
and with it, poetry
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Waving A Poetry!
Composing a poetry
quite a complex tapestry
its a product of ingenuity
that derive from within me
Don't know to begin
a poem that explain
innate sentiments
of sensitive hues
Just like a waver
who creates with art
through skillfull work
guided by the heart
The beauty in poetry
is not seen by the eyes
but felt by the emotions
that contained in human
Waving is like writing
where a piece of poetry
is instinctively woven right
that interpolates human life
Indeed, waving a poetry
is a masterfull endeavor
that is quite not perfect
but expresses freedom
poem by Marvin Brato Sr
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Living Hurts
I hear the singing of the birds…
I feel the sun on my face…
I am alive…
Turn to the morning news two babies murdered…
Living Hurts…
Walking in the park after dark…
The moon so very bright…
Then here comes that thief of the night…
Living Hurts…
Laughing and smiling with my boo…
Something we are expected to do…
Then out of nowhere, the dare…
Whip, bam, boom…
An arguments to soon…
Living Hurts…
Life is really to short…
It is a very good sport…
So lets just all get along…
Make love and smile…
Touch and run free…
Living Hurts…
Out of all of the warmhearted things…
This world has to offer…
It's final offer is death…
Love while you can….
poem by whisperkwane Lamb
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!