We....are... What We Are...
we feast upon words
plate upon plate
and in magnificent
courses from the
Chinese chef
the words are
salty and
the sulfates are
somnambulists
we showed bloated
heads
and they begin to laugh
we look like
cheap poets making it
on
not so well attended
blog-sites
we wish we are bombs
killing some
racists and
pigs and
pachyderms
the days are over
we are into this sickness into this
common death
like whales finally finding
their destinations into some
bloody blobs.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The duel
The gingham dog and the calico cat
Side by side on the table sat;
'T was half-past twelve, and (what do you think!)
Nor one nor t' other had slept a wink!
The old Dutch clock and the Chinese plate
Appeared to know as sure as fate
There was going to be a terrible spat.
(I wasn't there; I simply state
What was told to me by the Chinese plate!)
The gingham dog went "bow-wow-wow!"
And the calico cat replied "mee-ow!"
The air was littered, an hour or so,
With bits of gingham and calico,
While the old Dutch clock in the chimney place
Up with its hands before its face,
For it always dreaded a family row!
(Now mind: I'm only telling you
What the old Dutch clock declares is true!)
The Chinese plate looked very blue,
And wailed, "Oh, dear! what shall we do!"
But the gingham dog and the calico cat
Wallowed this way and tumbled that,
Employing every tooth and claw
In the awfullest way you ever saw -
And, oh! how the gingham and calico flew!
(Don't fancy I exaggerate -
I got my news from the Chinese plate!)
Next morning, where the two had sat
They found no trace of dog or cat;
And some folks think unto this day
That burglars stole that pair away!
But the truth about the cat and pup
Is this: they ate each other up!
Now what do you really think of that!
(The old Dutch clock it told me so,
And that is how I came to know.)
poem by Eugene Field
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How About You
If someone showed you the way
Would you take the wheel and steer?
It hurts me that your not ashamed
Of what you're doing here
If they jumped off a bridge
Would you meet them on the ground?
Or would you try and claim
It never made a sound?
Everyone plays the hand they're dealt
And learns to walk through life themselves
Not everything in life is handed on a plate
When people think your words are true
It doesn't matter what you do
I sold my soul to get here
How 'bout you?
so you choose to force your hand
What a strange way to make friends
And you always change the rules
so the drama never ends
And you blindly go through life
Judging only but it's worth
Just try not to forget
That the meek inherit earth
Everyone plays the hand they're dealt
And learns to walk through life themselves
Not everything in life is handed on a plate
When people think your words are true
It does'nt matter what you do
I sold my soul to get here
How 'bout you?
So please don't take offence
This is just a point of view
'Cause I'm the only one who
Will say these things to you
Everyone plays the hand they're dealt
And learns to walk through life themselves
Not everything in life is handed on a plate
When people think your words are true
It doesn't matter what you do
I sold my soul to get here
How 'bout you?
song performed by by Staind
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wasted (original Demo)
Oh, somebody else is looking up
Oh, somebody else is showing how you do it
I never fall in love
I just fall out of it
I never get enough
I just say enough of this
And I've had enough of this
Wasted words you gave me
Wasted talk is cheap
Wasted, I think your eyes are killing me
Wasted somewhere in between
Oh, another fight is going down
Oh, and nobody else is making a sound
I always say too much
I always miss the bus
I never get enough
I just say enough of this
I've had enough of this
Wasted words you gave me
Wasted talk is cheap
Wasted, I think your eyes are killing me
Wasted somewhere in between
Oh, I guess I'm breaking through
Oh, and it's all the same without you
I never fell in love
I just fell out of it
I never had enough
I just had enough of this
I've had enough of this
Wasted words you gave me
Wasted talk is cheap
Wasted, I think your eyes are killing me
Wasted somewhere
song performed by by Vertical Horizon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Like To Think That All These Are But A Game Of Words
that is the impression from the beginning
when i started to scribble
word, and more words, i assured her that they do not
mean anything at all just
words, and words and more words
that even a sunflower wilting and spreading all the seed on her feet
are nothing too but words and more words
nothing to grow nothing to expect like a sprouting something
thus my loneliness, i again assure here, is nothing but a word
my way of taking solitude on the other side to save myself
is another word, and she of course, did not believe me saying
there is more to these words, there is fire in them and i see you burning
there is the sun inside them and the letters glow and the
there is smoke rising from the heads of vowels
from the nonspeaking consonants
i keep hiding the flowers
i bury those that are alive in the silence of my pretensions
until one day she grips me like she is a knife wanting to stab me
and then she stabbed me right in my throat and there i bleed
words, words, and more words coming from the slit
bloody words, and she was convinced, until death, ... and then i vanish.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Fun Or Fate Poetry Writing?
Poetry writing has become a matter of fun!
With play of words many indulge in this fun;
Fun without fact will make poetry quite inept.
Fun or fate, some write poetry with true fact!
There are many things for them to have fun,
But it has become easy to play in poetry sites.
Also there are comments, voting and ranking;
These make them play this game regularly!
Fact is some are born poets in these sites also!
It is quite true some become poets sooner here!
Also it happens that some are branded as poets!
So goes the survival of these sites by this fun!
No poetry can survive long without fun and fact;
Fun or fate, poetry has become a part of life ever!
poem by Ramesh T A
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Saintly Sin
There was a man dressed shabbily
in church in the same old pew.
He sat there piously and pretended to pray
but knew what he would do.
He waited patiently for the collection plate
to pass him in the pew.
He made the effort to stop the plate
and this is what he'd do.
He'd place a penny in the plate
and take two quarters out.
And as he left he'd smiled a lot
and you would hear him shout
Hallelujah Lord.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Creativity/ Like My Father On His Deathbed
Poetry is not about words.
Poetry flows
from experiences that hover beyond words,
a shining memory sounding muffled
hidden behind a familiar door.
The words of a poem
are the funeral of my old father,
magnificent, feisty and watchful,
available to the last
through indefinable gestures
and a shining silence
existent somewhere else now
as poetry is, the real poem,
not the heavy coffin of the print.
Poetry pines for it’s lost world,
its hidden home,
like a swan still singing on a plate.
It is homesick, alone, away
from its chosen canyons and
mountain trees around the lake,
vibrant with colour
in memories that glow
for a lifetime.
You know, as I do, poetry is not words,
but is a royal personage,
my father on his deathbed.
poem by Iain Trousdell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fire-men
I feel something
Something is rushing straight to me
Not the runner, nor the falling rock-climber
But a round flying object－ yes, a football
I have no enough time to run away, I’ll be hit
But it stops－ thanks to the iron net before me
I, angrily, try to see from the holes of net
About six men, wearing blue clothes of football
Printed with Congshan Fire Brigade
They are practicing shooting
By shooting a small metal plate
Tied tightly on the net
Every time when they kick the ball, they shout
Two words－ but I cannot hear them clearly
One by one, when they hit the target
They cheer, and again kick, hit and shout
As the triumph over the mountain-fire
Caused by a cigarette butt last year
Year in year out, they fight against fire
Honorably, even when they play football
The courage, the braveness, the fire
Flying with the ball, hitting the plate
Yes they win! Finally I hear what they shout
As what is written on that plate: NO SOMKING
poem by Kavin Fang
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chinese woman
When your eyes,
Meet mine,
You smile,
So fine.
The thought
Of being with you,
Excites me,
It’s all I wanna do.
Chinese woman,
I love you,
Chinese woman,
Why don’t you love me too?
Chinese woman,
Don’t go far away,
Chinese woman,
Why don’t you stay?
Every time,
You see me,
I try
to be funny.
I don’t understand,
You laugh and smile,
Yet I don’t hear from
You in a while.
Chinese woman,
I love you,
Chinese woman,
Why don’t you love me too?
Chinese woman,
Don’t go far away,
Chinese woman,
Why don’t you stay?
Days come
In and out.
Still I have
To shout.
Just so you
Look at me.
Just so you
Can see…
Chinese woman,
I love you,
Why don’t you love me too?
Chinese woman,
Don’t go away,
Why don’t you want to stay?
With me.
Chinese woman.
This poem, is actually the words to a song. I wrote them as lyrics first.
poem by Roger Naya
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dancing Words for Friend Mark Slaughter
There’s more to writing poetry,
than choosing your words carefully.
Selecting words you know will rhyme.
You must consider too the time
the beat your words will be dancing to
In just the way you want them too
.The rhythm furnished by the meter
helps your words to flow much sweeter.
The basic rules you have to learn
so you can teach them in your turn
To other poets who are new
and do not know as much as you.
The feedback which you will receive
will satisfy you I believe.
3-Mar-09
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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For All The Words Dished Up - Two For Emily Dickinson
1
For all the words dished up,
A plate without meat. Maybe, bone.
No love fattened you,
never used your flesh.
Green as grass you stayed.
Dauntless, no narrow fellow passed.
2
This talk of death, dear Emily,
I know it intimately - plain talk
describes it best, as you know,
this Mystery grotesque -
concreteness like tombs hard in
the eye or that slant of light
obscured by a fly.
OK. It's done now. And ever will be,
for all the words in green
afternoons cannot evade mortality -
and soul no more than that butterfly be,
I laugh to call it Eternity that waits
beneath this plank, that other room
where a coach kindly stopped,
dropped you, yellow wing, still and
dark, now daunted and alone.
poem by Warren Falcon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Christmas Poem
Christmas is a coming
And we'll all be getting fatter
But at this time of year
It really doesn't matter
The turkey'll be stuffed
With lovely sausagemeat
The table will be dressed
Looking good and really neat
We'll be making roast potatoes
And also pigs in a blanket
The food will be aplenty
Rather like a banquet
There'll be sprouts on our plate
After which we'll be trumping
We'll stuff our belly way too much
And end up like a dumpling
To finish we'll have afters
Of Christmas pud and custard
By now we'll be feeling stuffed
Our trousers almost busted
After dinner we'll sing carols
Squealing like a crazy cat
We'll pull a Christmas cracker
Then wear a silly hat
We'll tell pathetic jokes
And laugh like cackling hens
We'll be pulling silly faces
Down the camera lens
The beer and wine will flow
The eggnog'll make an appearance
In time we'll start to slur our words
Slowly becoming incoherent
Then off to bed We'll go
To dream a happy dream
When we awake we will have
Some Christmas pud and Cream!
Gone Is the Whoopie Goosed From You
Have you found the turnaround
Has come to beat you down,
'Yeah! '
With your knuckles scraped.
'Yeah.'
And nothing on your plate,
'Yeah.'
Have you found the turnaround
Has come to beat you down,
'Yeah! '
With your knuckles scraped.
'Yeah.'
And nothing on your plate,
'Yeah.'
Gone is the whoopie goosed from you!
Tingled were sensations,
A few dollars had amused.
Now you're quite upset.
Regrets are now your pets.
Have you found the turnaround
Has come to beat you down.
'Yeah! '
With your knuckles scraped.
'Yeah.'
And nothing on your plate,
'Yeah.'
Have you found the turnaround
Has come to beat you down.
'Yeah! '
With your knuckles scraped.
'Yeah.'
And nothing on your plate,
'Yeah.'
Gone is the whoopie goosed from you!
Ooo...
And there's no debate,
Which side to lick your plate!
Morning and noon too,
You feel you've been screwed.
And nobody's there...
To give a damn or care!
Have you found the turnaround
Has come to beat you down.
'Yeah! '
With your knuckles scraped.
'Yeah.'
And nothing on your plate,
'Yeah.'
Have you found the turnaround
Has come to beat you down.
'Yeah! '
With your knuckles scraped.
'Yeah.'
And nothing on your plate,
'Yeah.'
Gone is the whoopie goosed from you!
Ooo...
And there's no debate,
Which side to lick your plate!
Gone is the whoopie goosed from you!
Ooo...
And there's no debate,
Which side to lick your plate!
And there's no debate,
Which side to lick your plate!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bacon Francis
So shall i kill them slowly
Twisted knives sharp honed by fate
And lay their bodies there before them
Like fresh chops upon a plate?
So shall they kiss oblivion
So shall they learn to dread
The greyest of grim reapers
Whose words burn a bloody red.
So shall i wreak my vengeance
so shall i dim their light
their lives forever fearful
not knowing when i'll strike.
poem by David Keig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Letting Go
I still hear my voice
It's calling in my head
But if I had only one choice
I'd leave it left unsaid
Unsaid
I try to reach you but my senses got so blurry
And I, try to teach you but my words come out so muddied
And I, if there's one thing that I should let you know
It's go away
But I keep fighting and I'm finding your injustice
It's just killing me (killing you)
I cannot breathe
Just let me go (killing me)
Or this will break me
My inner voices
Are part of my disease
'Cause it's pushing me to hurt you
But killing you is just killing me
If I can't have you and the dreams you put inside my head
I would not leave you but I keep you here until our death
You think it's over, there's a gun in my head full of lead
I want to use it but I can't abuse it and that's why
It's just killing me (killing you)
I cannot breathe
Just let me go (killing me)
Or this will break me
My inner voices
Are part of my disease
'Cause it's pushing me to hurt you
But killing you is just killing me
What are you waiting for?
You will never get away
What are you waiting for?
You will not get away
What are you waiting for?
You will never get away
What are you waiting for?
You will not get away
(Unsaid)
My inner voices
Are part of my disease
'Cause it's pushing me to hurt you
But killing me you just killing me
'Cause killing you is killing me
song performed by by Ill NiO
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Letting Go
I still hear my voice
It's calling in my head
But if I had only one choice
I'd leave it left unsaid
Unsaid
I try to reach you but my senses got so blurry
And I, try to teach you but my words come out so muddied
And I, if there's one thing that I should let you know
It's go away
But I keep fighting and I'm finding your injustice
It's just killing me (killing you)
I cannot breathe
Just let me go (killing me)
Or this will break me
My inner voices
Are part of my disease
'Cause it's pushing me to hurt you
But killing you is just killing me
If I can't have you and the dreams you put inside my head
I would not leave you but I keep you here until our death
You think it's over, there's a gun in my head full of lead
I want to use it but I can't abuse it and that's why
It's just killing me (killing you)
I cannot breathe
Just let me go (killing me)
Or this will break me
My inner voices
Are part of my disease
'Cause it's pushing me to hurt you
But killing you is just killing me
What are you waiting for?
You will never get away
What are you waiting for?
You will not get away
What are you waiting for?
You will never get away
What are you waiting for?
You will not get away
(Unsaid)
My inner voices
Are part of my disease
'Cause it's pushing me to hurt you
But killing me you just killing me
'Cause killing you is killing me
song performed by by Ill NiO
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I have avoided becoming stale by putting a little water on the plate, lying on the plate, and having myself refreshed in a toaster oven for 23 minutes once every month.
quote by Dean Koontz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Words
Words on this paper
Words in my head
Words while I'm texting
Computing
Unsaid
Words between people
Words on the phone
Words upon words
Even when I'm alone
Words from the Bible
I question
Don't mesh
Words from pornography
Making them flesh
Words with flat letters
Written in black
Good words and bad words
You cannot take back
Words that are shallow
Words that are deep
When they're too many
They put me to sleep
Words that I'm writing
And rhyming you read
Whatever I'm saying
There's prolly no need
Words from the alphabet
Words that can't be
When you are blind
And it's Braile that you see
Words that are worthless
And said on the fly
My words or your words
Are most likely lies
Words in a sentence
Wise words or fair
The only words earnest
Are those said in prayer
Written by Sara Fielder © 2011
poem by Sara Fielder
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A War Raging On
There's a war raging on
Though I know not where
There are people fighting
Though they do not care
Soldiers are fighting
Mothers are crying
Fathers are preaching
For their sons are dying,
For their is a war killing
And no one really cares.
There's bullets shooting
As I see the guns loading
And there's planes flying
For I feel the bombs exploding,
I see war and I see blood
And death upon the sand
There's hunger and death
I still see in His hand,
For there's people killing
As I see the blood flowing.
There's soldiers marching
For I hear them coming
The killing is flowing
For I see the children running,
There are people being shot
Poets getting caught
Murderers being sought
Lessons again being taught,
For there is a war raging
As the soldiers are hunting.
There is a war coming
For I hear the horns blowing
There is more killing coming
For I see the hate growing,
Children are getting killed
Burying bombs in the fields
Land is being destroyed
Mountains are becoming hills,
For there is a war coming
For I see the hate showing.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Kill Me Gently (Acrostic)
Kill me with soft words of love
Irritate both fate and death,
Love Crimson, by killing all she is,
Let love be, but hate with all her passions.
Martyr that of thyne heart
Eat away at every scarred part.
Gorge on the feast I have provided
Eat like a king, you shall behead me the same,
Not all can be loved, but your passionate kill shows the most passion,
Toy with me, my death is evident, yet theres no murder
Let me die quickly as to not suffer your passions anymore,
You finally did it, you killed me with your nothings.
poem by Crimson Love
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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