Tight Ropes And Ballet Dancing
well to tell you frankly
i had my days
of walking on tight ropes
under the carefull watch of my grandpa
and i was so frightened then
when i was a child
because the moment i fall
he beats me with a
very hard stick
fromt he guava tree
and i cried alone
in the attic
where the black birds
are staying steady
with their claws on
the power lines
and they never get electrecuted
and i learned
from them sometimes
and i stopped crying
and the ballet dancing did not stop
under the careful watch of
grandmother who too held a stick
and beat me when
i fell on my broken toes
and again i cried in the attic
many times when i was once a child
and i look over the window and see
the clouds drifting near my
hands
i touch them and they are so soft
and gentle and i learn too from them
and soon when the tears finally consumed themselves
i had the wings of the black crow
and the puffy touch of the clouds
and then i fly
and then i drifted in my dreams
my imaginations
kindred spirit
rising to the heavens
i once dreamed. i once died.
i learned.
i am alive. and i am writing
poems
for myself.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
And The Heavens Cried(Trail of Tears)
You could see the clouds
rolling across the sky
as the day started to rain
teardrops of blood across the land
lost in their visions of doubt
buried in their pain
white man had all the say
we were left to taciturn
as we watched everything burn
and the heavens cried
on the trail of tears
On some beaten shore
we watched the ships come in
one by one, our land wore thin
we could just watch with closed eyes
as the promises made were just lies
they said you don't belong here anymore
behind their mask, they wore a disguise
and the heavens cried
on the trail of tears
Blood spilled on our sacred ground
leaving a unwanted stain
where mighty warriors once made a stand
we never could walk hand in hand
when they lived by so much greed
we watched our people fall
thousands must bleed
still all we could do is try
and the heavens cried
on the trail of tears
Guided by the spirit wind
we held on to our pride
something they could'nt take away
as so many died
through our darkest years
and the heavens cried
on the trail of tears
(spiritwind-2009)
poem by Spiritwind Wood
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Life Is Poem
to me life is a poem............maybe a child's singing and crying.....sometimes......when I wake up........I go to a park.......in my leisure.......though I am alwayss leisured by life......I sit on a desolate bank.....look around...what I see.......The sparrows eating our troubles......hopping around........to me.......they are the hopping champions of life......easing our troubles....when there is a sparrow.....there must be a life...of some how.....some what....I watch the people by passing......there is the blind couple.....with their white white long stick....tapping....ı t is a music played ı n pavement stones....composed by them....listen to it....sometimes a black crow crows....writing his black poem, , , , , , tearing our ear drums....to me life is poem......the crying of the living...good or bad....ı wish....I had written this piece...like a child.....they are my beloved ones and friends...who me only understands...and write poem s best........
poem by Metin Sahin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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From the Diary of a Mimes
At my grandmothers house, you will see a hundred years of family portraits. We are a family of mimes. The portraits are of mimes.
You may ask why would someone wish to be a mime? For it is a limited existence beings that a mime s a simile of a single frame photograph. Look at the pictures at grandmothers house, do you feel the pain? This is my pain.
Becoming a mime.
I was six or seven years old. Grandmother and I were sitting in her living room, I had slept over at her house for a weekend while mom, dad and little brother tend to other things. Grandmother was in an odd mood today. She looked at her pictures and smiled some. And cried a little." I think its time you wore your mime face." She said. Today you will learn how to become a mime." So I said" Yes madman she proceeded to make up my face.
As she put on my makeup she started to cry. She cried for a long time. I was a little girl I started crying as well. I could not watch my grandmother cry without shedding tears of my own. So we sat and cried.
'Why are we crying' I asked? 'Well dear, sometimes life deals you a hard enough blow that even a mime will cry." I said 'Ok.'I was soon to find out what she meant. This is the day I learned a safe place for a heart to be. I learned that a person could freeze emotions and save them for future use. Yes place them in a jar, to be opened at an appropriate time. For that is what I do. You see I write a sad story, open a jar of tears and cry for a minute.
So after a good cry, grandmother took my hand and led me to the foyer wondered why I had to wear my mime face. Well grandmother had hers on, so I thought it must be a family thing, and I did not question. We sat under the foyer, was hot.New Orleans is a hot place at certain times of the year. There was no breeze, was still as could be. Nothing moved, except perhaps the webs a few lucky spiders, the ones who had prey to close in on.
'God bless mother nature, child. Its infinite wisdom, allows all creatures sustenance 'Uhh grandmother, that is a spider. Kill it, mom does.''No." She says, this is his house. If he were in mine, then I would kill him, but he lives here and kills insects.'
'You say he" I asked." How do you know it is a male spider? " She sighs." I do not know.' So I ask." Then why do you say it is a male? " It is taken for granted that any unknown sex is referred to as he. God is male." I answer" God could be a woman. I do not think anyone knows Gods sex grandmother. The world would be better if God was a female.''Perhaps so child." She answers, " Perhaps so.'
'Your father used to say that when he was your age. Always a philosophy with him." And her eye tiered up again. But I saw her turn to ice of a sudden. The tears dried. Then a long white car pulled up in the driveway, grandmother took my hand and we walked to the car. A man in a grey uniform opened the door and we sat inside. 'I will remember every detail of this day. For this is where my life changed.'
The car drove us to a big fancy building, it was full of mimes dressed in black. Even as a child I realized that something was wrong, so many mimes, all crying and made up in misery faces. I wondered why. They all parted as grandmother and I entered the building.
It was an odd place. Sad sounding music reminded me of harmonies of sorrow, organs and moans and tears. There were 3 pretty boxes in the center of the room. People were all around, most of them mimes, most were crying. 'Grand mother, what is in the boxes? 'I asked." Why do all the mimes look into them and cry? ''Never mind my child. Just be a mime.'
'Well if my daddy was here he would pick me up and I could see what was in the boxes." My grandmother looked down at me and started to cry, and the tears flowed." Brace yourself girl." She said. Then she picked me up. Eagerly I looked over the side of the box. In it was the reason I became a mime. I saw my fathers body made up to be a mime laying with his hands together as if he were praying. My brother and mother the same in other boxes. I knew they had passed away.
It was hard on a little girl, to have it etched into her mind.I kicked and screamed till grandmother set me on my feet. I ran out of the room and never spoke another word until this day.
I do not like this one much.
Aftermath
'The Tree Still Stands! '
Exclaimed the boy clasping his hands
To his Father who was walking the rear,
And to his Grandfather who was nowhere near.
For happy was He.
For standing there so straight and tall
Was the tree whose limbs He crawled
And the branches from which He played,
And the root where His head once laid.
And the many leaves.
Now the Father whom hearing His Son
Came to his side in a moment run
Then He stopped; for the tree He saw
Then the Father just stood in awe,
And uttered; 'my old friend'.
For standing there was His friend
From which before His youth was spent
By climbing and playing games,
And hiding under, from the cold and rain.
And the wind.
Then the Grandfather came strolling up
And He paused, in a moment hush
To reflect to a different year
When He was a Child, and He cried a tear.
And He clasped His hands.
For he was then again a Child
And then again He cried and smiled,
For He remembered His Father and He,
And how together they planted a tree.
And it still stands.
'Thank GOD the tree still stands! '
Cried the Grandfather clasping His hands.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Clouds Of My Life
There moves the cloud
with the wind that blows
So bright and white
like the pages of my life…
I sit near the window
and watch those clouds
That shows me the way
my life is being shaped…
Never was I able to
see the clouds
Have the same shape
in every minute of my life…
Why does this happen
is what I think
But everyday is not the same
is what it says to me…
I see the winds
blow off the clouds
Which makes me think
when will my life be blown off? ...
It's hard to see
black clouds coming in between
Making my worst fears
strike into my mind…
It rains day and night
making me feel happy and sad
Happy to see the black clouds fading
but sad about losing the clouds…
Dreams of mine takes
shape in the clouds
Always showing me the face
of the person I like…
It always reminds me
my life is in world's hands
No matter how hard I try
can't change the fate of my life…
It's nice to see the clouds
every morning I wake up
This reminds me there is still a day
because I see the "Clouds of my Life"…
poem by Sowkoor Nischal Shetty
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Case Of Murder
They should not have left him there alone,
Alone that is except for the cat.
He was only nine, not old enough
To be left alone in a basement flat,
Alone, that is, except for the cat.
A dog would have been a different thing,
A big gruff dog with slashing jaws,
But a cat with round eyes mad as gold,
Plump as a cushion with tucked-in paws---
Better have left him with a fair-sized rat!
But what they did was leave him with a cat.
He hated that cat; he watched it sit,
A buzzing machine of soft black stuff,
He sat and watched and he hated it,
Snug in its fur, hot blood in a muff,
And its mad gold stare and the way it sat
Crooning dark warmth: he loathed all that.
So he took Daddy's stick and he hit the cat.
Then quick as a sudden crack in glass
It hissed, black flash, to a hiding place
In the dust and dark beneath the couch,
And he followed the grin on his new-made face,
A wide-eyed, frightened snarl of a grin,
And he took the stick and he thrust it in,
Hard and quick in the furry dark.
The black fur squealed and he felt his skin
Prickle with sparks of dry delight.
Then the cat again came into sight,
Shot for the door that wasn't quite shut,
But the boy, quick too, slammed fast the door:
The cat, half-through, was cracked like a nut
And the soft black thud was dumped on the floor.
Then the boy was suddenly terrified
And he bit his knuckles and cried and cried;
But he had to do something with the dead thing there.
His eyes squeezed beads of salty prayer
But the wound of fear gaped wide and raw;
He dared not touch the thing with his hands
So he fetched a spade and shovelled it
And dumped the load of heavy fur
In the spidery cupboard under the stair
Where it's been for years, and though it died
It's grown in that cupboard and its hot low purr
Grows slowly louder year by year:
There'll not be a corner for the boy to hide
When the cupboard swells and all sides split
And the huge black cat pads out of it.
Submitted by Andrew Mayers
poem by by unknown author
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Held Up With Just A Stick
Held up with just a stick.
Held up with just a stick.
Held up with just a stick.
Held up with just a stick.
Held up with just a stick,
It seems...
Held up with just a stick,
One's head...
Held up with just a stick,
Their arms and their legs...
Needing to be fed.
And...
Held up with just a stick,
One's pride...
Held up with just a stick,
Two eyes and two ears...
Living poverty so near,
To...
Famish it is clear.
And...
Held up with just a stick,
Hunger.
Held up with just a stick,
Life!
Held up with just a stick,
Blight!
And those who fight death in their sight.
Held up with just a stick,
Life!
Held up with just a stick,
Pride!
Held up with just a stick,
Blight!
And those who fight death in their sight.
Held up with just a stick,
And...
There's no benefit to it.
Held up with just a stick,
Life!
Held up with just a stick,
Pride!
Held up with just a stick,
Blight!
And living this is NOT a gift.
Held up with just a stick,
And...
There's no benefit to it.
Held up with just a stick.
Held up with just a stick.
Held up with just a stick.
Held up with just a stick.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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C.B.***2 Wit
..........................He's In The House........................
................ .....In The Attic Frozen Still.................
................Only Moves When He Has To...........
................Waiting To Get His Nasty Fill...........
...............I Hear Him From Time To Time........
............When The Cold Cracks His Base........
............And He Tries To Move His Arms.........
........................Just To Feel His Face.................
..And When We Are All In Bed Slumbering....
..........The Ghost-He Slinks Down The Stairs...
...............Pillages Our Kitchen For Food..............
..................Robbing Our Cupboards Bare................
.....................Some times He Leaves..........................
............. .......Out The Patio Door, He Goes...............
...................But Leaves The Stick Out In View..........
.........................Just To Let Us Know...........................
.............. ......Its Harder For Him Now...........................
.....As The Bay Door Is Tighter Than Leather..........
........But He Manages To Still Slink Around..............
.............To Meet With His Birds of A Feather............
.............Now I Carry A Very Large Stick.....................
................And An Even Meaner Knife And Gun..........
........MESSAGE TO THE GHOST IN THE ATTIC.....
...The Days Coming-When You Are Totally Done.....
poem by Theodora Onken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Child In Your Arms
Child in your arms
Will always love you
Child in your arms
Will always love you
I know it's hard to understand
Why I was taken from your hands
One day we'll meet again
Mother and father hand in hand
Child in your arms
Will always love you
Child in your arms
Will always love you
Pick a star in the sky
And see the twinkle in my eye
As I send you my love
From heavens above
Child in your arms
Will always love you
Child in your arms
Will always love you
All the new mothers above
Giving their love
To the new born child
In heavens above
Mother father watch over me
And jesus will watch over you
I feel your love in heavens above
I'll see you here
When it's your time to come
Child in your arms
Will always love you
Child in your arms
Will always love you
Oh mummy dear
I see you and daddy so near
My life as just begun
In heavens above
So don't be afraid to live your life
Be glad and happy to what comes to you
I'll keep you safe as I watch over you
Child in your arms
Will always love you
Child in your arms
Will always love you
Sweet child in heaven
Sleep in peace
I hope you see all you want to see
Be who you want to be
God bless
poem by Dave Alan Walker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The View From An Attic Window
1
Among the high-branching, leafless boughs
Above the roof-peaks of the town,
Snowflakes unnumberably come down.
I watched out of the attic window
The laced sway of family trees,
Intricate genealogies
Whose strict, reserved gentility,
Trembling, impossible to bow,
Received the appalling fall of snow.
All during Sunday afternoon,
Not storming, but befittingly,
Out of a still, grey, devout sky,
The snowflakes fell, until all shapes
Went under, and thickening, drunken lines
Cobwebbed the sleep of solemn pines.
Up in the attic, among many things
Inherited and out of style,
I cried, then fell asleep awhile,
Waking at night now, as the snow-
flakes from darkness to darkness go
Past yellow lights in the street below.
2
I cried because life is hopeless and beautiful.
And like a child I cried myself to sleep
High in the head of the house, feeling the hull
Beneath me pitch and roll among the steep
Mountains and valleys of the many years
That brought me to tears.
Down in the cellar, furnace and washing machine,
Pump, fuse-box, water heater, work their hearts
Out at my life, which narrowly runs between
Them and this cemetery of spare parts
For discontinued men, whose hats and canes
Are my rich remains.
And women, their portraits and wedding gowns
Stacked in the corners, brooding in wooden trunks;
And children’s rattles, books about lions and clowns;
And headless, hanging dresses swayed like drunks
Whenever a living footstep shakes the floor;
I mention no more;
But what I thought today, that made me cry,
Is this, that we live in two kinds of thing:
The powerful trees, thrusting into the sky
Their black patience, are one, and that branching
Relation teaches how we endure and grow;
The other is the snow,
Falling in a white chaos from the sky,
As many as the sands of all the seas,
As all the men who died or who will die,
As stars in heaven, as leaves of all the trees;
As Abraham was promised of his seed;
Generations bleed,
Till I, high in the tower of my time
Among familiar ruins, began to cry
For accident, sickness, justice, war and crime,
Because all died, because I had to die.
The snow fell, the trees stood, the promise kept,
And a child I slept.
poem by Howard Nemerov
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Sestina
September rain falls on the house.
In the failing light, the old grandmother
sits in the kitchen with the child
beside the Little Marvel Stove,
reading the jokes from the almanac,
laughing and talking to hide her tears.
She thinks that her equinoctial tears
and the rain that beats on the roof of the house
were both foretold by the almanac,
but only known to a grandmother.
The iron kettle sings on the stove.
She cuts some bread and says to the child,
It's time for tea now; but the child
is watching the teakettle's small hard tears
dance like mad on the hot black stove,
the way the rain must dance on the house.
Tidying up, the old grandmother
hangs up the clever almanac
on its string. Birdlike, the almanac
hovers half open above the child,
hovers above the old grandmother
and her teacup full of dark brown tears.
She shivers and says she thinks the house
feels chilly, and puts more wood in the stove.
It was to be, says the Marvel Stove.
I know what I know, says the almanac.
With crayons the child draws a rigid house
and a winding pathway. Then the child
puts in a man with buttons like tears
and shows it proudly to the grandmother.
But secretly, while the grandmother
busies herself about the stove,
the little moons fall down like tears
from between the pages of the almanac
into the flower bed the child
has carefully placed in the front of the house.
Time to plant tears, says the almanac.
The grandmother sings to the marvelous stove
and the child draws another inscrutable house.
poem by Elizabeth Bishop
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Master's Call
You made the sun and the moon
And all this with Love
You put the stars in the heavens
And the clouds high above
I see the mountains so high
They stand in your name
I see the birds in the sky
I hear them sing of your fame
Man praises man for painting these things
Yet it is because of God that the bird sings
Open your eyes and watch the dolphin dance upon the waves
Open your heart and know that our creator Jesus saves
Watch a baby crawl
Hear a man laugh and sing
See a mothers tears of anguish
And know that life is not a simple thing
To laugh, to cry, to feel, to see
I am truly amazed just to be
To hear, to touch, to breathe, to sigh
A walking miracle from the one on high.
As you live your lives no matter where
Dancing or crying, always be aware
Its better to have lived than not at all
For this is your chance to hear the Masters call.
poem by Frank McEleny
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Crying
I was all right for a while
I could smile for a while
But when I saw you last night
You held my hand so tight
When you stopped to say hello
And though you wished me well
You couldn't tell
That I'd been crying over you, crying over you
Then you said so long
and left me standing all alone
Alone and crying, crying, crying, crying
It's hard to understand
That the touch of your hand
Can start me crying
I thought that I was over you
But it's true, so true
I love you even more than I did before
But darling, what can I do?
You don't love me
And I'll always be crying over you, crying over you
Yes, now you're gone
And from this moment on
I'll be crying, crying, crying, crying
I'm crying, crying over you
song performed by by Don McLean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dog Now Tricks
I wish I had not woke up today
Everyone mistakes the things you say
Take the simple truth and
Twist it all around
Make it sound important and make it seem profound
Dog new tricks
Nothing you learn will stick
Dog new tricks
You make me feel so worthless
Everyone I know has gone away
Died or left or just forgot to stay
Sometimes took for granted
Sometimes turned away
Sometimes didnt say what I meant to say
Dog new tricks
Nothing you learn will stick
Dog new tricks
You make me feel so worthless
I never would have pegged you
For what you have become
Everyone lies, everyone cheats
Not like youve done
Dog new tricks
Nothing youve learned will stick
Dog new tricks
You make me feel so worthless
Dog new tricks
Nothing youve learned will stick
Dog new tricks
You make me feel so worthless
Nothing you learn
Nothing you learn
Nothing you learn
Nothing you learn
song performed by by Garbage
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Crying
Roy orbison
Roy: i was all right for a while
I could smile for a while
Kd: but i saw you last night
You held my hand so tight
When you stopped to say hello
Roy: you wished me well
You couldn't tell that
I've been crying over you,
Crying over you and you said "so long"
Left me standing all alone,
Alone and crying, crying, crying, crying
It's hard to understand
Kd: but the touch of your hand can start me crying
Roy: i thought that i was over you
But it's true, so true
I love you even more than i did before
But darling, what can i do?
For you don't love me
Kd: and i'll always be
Crying over you, crying over you
Roy: yes now you're gone
Both: and from this moment on, i'll be crying, crying, crying, crying
Yeah, crying, crying over you
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tears Fall Down
Now I see the time we had before
Is just a passing moment that we cant share anymore.
And Ive learned that written words are not the same
As when you take the time to say it
And let the clouds release the rain.
And I wish my dreams alone would bring back my old friends.
Yesterdays just something I cant mend.
And I broke down for my lost brother and Ive died for mama, too.
Now my tears fall down for you. for you.
And I say one thing each day before I lay me down.
I thank God for your sweet smile although youre not around.
And I cant overcome your memory in my mind.
Its a bridge Ill never cross until the end of time.
And I wish my dreams alone would bring back my old friend.
But, yesterdays just something I cant mend.
cause Ive broke down for my lost father and Ive cried for sister, too.
Now my tears fall down for you. for you. you.
song performed by by Hootie & The Blowfish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Black Moon
Oh the devil is rising with the moon
He cries and my blood runs cold.
Oh no never was the darkness so black,
No light and nowhere to go.
My spirit is crying for a love
So tired of being alone.
I remember he came here to steal,
And you are his stealer of souls.
I see a black moon rising,
And its calling out my name.
Oh its calling my name.
Ive been blinded, lost and confused,
Darkness will call me no more.
Heaven is no friend of mine,
No God ever knocked on my door.
I see a black moon rising,
And its calling out my name.
Oh its calling my name.
Im standing on the dark side of time
Reaching for the power of her hand.
Shes weaving an unholy light
And calls from lucifers land.
I see a black moon rising,
And its calling out my name.
An angel of hell is rising,
Heavens no friend of mine.
I see a black moon rising,
And its calling out my name,
I see a black moon rising,
And it causes so much pain.
An angel of hell is rising,
Heavens no friend of mine.
I see a black moon rising,
And its calling out my name.
Its calling my name,
This spirits crying for love.
Heavens no friend of mine.
song performed by by Black Sabbath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sadness into one Heart
Sadness into one Heart
as child we look up to our
elders we teach from them
watch the steam a rose bloom
that is how a child bring up
to watch the sadness of child
bring tears to the parents
we shine for a while now these
days we watch our babies grow
up but some children are still
a child them as they still babies
themselves child heart beats
little heart wonder how there
future holds when you walk outside
all I saw is buggies everywhere
to see the sadness of a child
is not ready to be having a baby
on themselve prayers go out
to them and strenth they would have
sadness by a child and a parent
poem by Annamaria Bicego
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cry Clouds Cry (Haiti Tribute)
Cry clouds cry
tears from the heaven
showers the land as many die
so cry clouds cry
Bodies piled up in count
as many died
earth trembled beneath feet
as the heavens abide
so cry clouds cry
Children left with no hope
families broken apart
left a void in our heart
as masses quake and buildings
shake as relationships break
so cry clouds cry
Black rain fall from the sky
as to many die
all cause of so much lies
so cry clouds cry
It hurts to know you care
and for that we always hold you near
thousand left this world but we still bear
as the voice of the nation we began to hear
so cry clouds cry
Let your voice be heard
though it was observed
it brought our nation together
and that was well deserved
so cry clouds cry
poem by Robert Roberts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cryin'
I was all right for a while
I could smile for a while
Then I saw you last night
You held my hand so tight
When you stopped to say hello
You wished me well, you couldn't tell
That I'd been crying over you
Crying over you
Then you said so long and left me standing all alone
Alone and crying
Crying, crying, crying
It's hard to understand
That the touch of your hand
Can start me crying
I thought that I was over you
But it's true, so true
I love you even more than I did before
But darling, what can I do?
You don't love me, and I'll always be
Crying over you
Crying over you
Yes, now you're gone
And from this moment on
I'll be crying, crying ----- over you
song performed by by Don McLean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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