En.Citatepedia^®.ro

You Made Me Happy Too, What Is Wrong?

last night you have shown me
everything i love
shall i enumerate all your
body parts
the color and taste
and smell

shall i tell you that i have memorized
every detail
you may tell me i am so sensitive about
those things
parts that bore you since you have them
all the days of your
sad life
sad?

i have quivered in hell
i swallowed every vomit
for each breast and arms and
hair
and lips and tongue
i sighed

you have shown me every part that i am
and honestly
after what happened
i hate to say this
but i had a year and so many years
of regret

it is not me, it was never me
i am never like that
but what can i do
here you are smiling at me
teasing me
and piercing my brain
shouting to the layer of my conscience

you did it man
you did it
stop pretending
you made me happy too
what is wrong?

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I’m Pretending

I’m pretending nothing happened,
that we are still together.
I’m pretending you never
went away with someone new.
I’m pretending we are still a couple,
that you are still nearby.
I’m pretending,
pretending
I am still with you.

I’m pretending that our love
still shines brightly.
I’m pretending that you still care
and lying to myself each day.
I’m pretending that you just stepped out
and that you are not far away.
I’m pretending,
pretending
I am still with you.

I’m pretending it always summer
and that winter never comes.
I’m pretending life is as it was
and I’m forever with you.
I’m pretending you are with me
and not in the arms of someone new.
I’m pretending that I am smiling
and that I’m not feeling blue.
I’m pretending,
pretending
I am still with you.

20 April 2009

poem by David Harris
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Sculptor

he first sculpted a very shapely body of a woman
thin arms, slender body, soft fingers,
porcelain smooth skin
supple breasts
complete with a face
and other
body parts to the last detail
possible

then he sculpted the man
the usual man with strong arms
gentle eyes and well chiseled
thighs
complete with a face
and other body parts to the last detail
possible

he is so kind enough
to leave the two
in the privacy
of their new found existence
that his chisels
and hammers gave them

despite the fact
that he is gay

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Country Is Like A Body

When one part sick
All parts look unhealthy
When one part missing
All parts get the impact

When one part is weak
Do other parts only blame and not help to fix it?
When one part is failed
Do other parts only let it fall and not support it?

Even it is often forgotten
It doesn't mean it is not important
Even it is always underestimated
It doesn't mean it could completely be ignored

One part may be incapable
But it doesn't mean all parts can do nothing
One part may be invalid
But it doesn't mean all parts should also give up the spirit

In some incredible moment they are working together
In some unseen place they don't stop to struggle
It may be hard but always raises up the hope
It may be small change but always look forward

poem by Maria Sudibyo
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The Parts In Relation To The Whole

the parts in relation to the whole are hard to muster
i get lost somehow
confused on this seemingly unrelated part to another part
like seeing the legs of this millipede
when it would have been easier to think of it
as a worm,

i remember being lost in a forest of trees
wild growing trees where i can no longer figure out the shape
of a single leaf
because it is too dark
and damp

too many little things, too many details, that hinder us
from grasping the wholeness of
things
and people and daily events,

i get tired of all these, parts and parts and parts and some more
miniatures of parts, a letter to the word,
speaking in cut phrases

how can i ever understand this and that?

show me the whole
be whole to me as i am whole to you
touch the parts later
relate it always to me

this love is whole, it was never meant to be chopped
like some garlic and onions
this love is an apple that you see and pick from the tree
take it first
in its appleness, then start to bite

every part is sweet, every part is me,
this love

this me, this whole world is me
it must be first to you

then love becomes us.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Open Me Up

Open me up on June,
Summer is a surgeon.
The roots of my herb are
Inside the body then.
My secret is safe so,
As my feet and mouth rise
Into heavenly grace
Or should I be enough?
June was electrical,
Lively, ordinary,
Bones and body parts shown.
I love being missed all.
I just hate being it.

poem by Naveed Akram
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The Other Way Around?

you smell like war,
like gunpowder,
flesh searing screams.
i smell like grieving,
like ashes, and
dirt on the shovel.
you sound like hunger,
and homelessness,
and vomit stained lips.
i sound like the soup
that simmers, like the
blanket wrapped...
you taste like bitterness,
the lonliness of alone.
i taste like the hand that fits,
the shadow of the body near...

or am i wrong?
could it be the other way around?

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Affirmations

In the slippings of my mind-
the errant misses
the missing blisses-
gather together all the remisses
all cousins
each making statements
proud and forelorn
joyous and now shorn
of all excuses and illusions
and pretty color smoke mirrors
to state simply and clearly
how each in accounting for itself
could explain
my great and small decisions
each bickering with one another
each casting subtle blame
as to how the other
had ruined me, my name
caused trouble and mayhem
whilst I looked on

saying:
'Each of you made me what I am
merely human.'

With a start they all looked up
one stating
'you are merely the sum
we are the parts
without us you lack meaning.'

'Yes, we' they said 'are your constituents
we gave birth you and all your musings
our parts are greater than your whole, true this.'
they said blending together in chorus.

They stepped back all celebrating their often stated contention;
We are all you are and can hope to be'

I blanched, stammering out my truth to wit:

'Parts are called parts because they are merely parts not wholes
and I am not you because I have in my life
assumulated all of you
and in doing so have become something other;
that you, mere parts, cannot comprehend having only the vantage point
of the past, while I present the Present Whole'

'Can a nose comprehend a face?
Can a mouth understand speech? '

'While all you parts are there
you are not my person whole
and that whole is who I am.'

'More' I said proudly
'even as each of you may be flawed
I am hope, promise and reality not a part
but the whole.
Each of you is not I, the whole.'

They all went slinking away from the shimmering light
my words bring.

I love this dream.
Each morning
it makes me wake smiling
from the knowledge

I can do anything I want;
After all it is My dream.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Let It Be Known, Let This Be Shown

I am wild
I am crazy
But to you
I am your lady

Let this be known
Let this be shown

I am more than meets the eye
Imp not gone sit back and let the world fly
My feelings for you will never die

Let this be known
Let this be shown

Momma didn't raise any fool
I might seem bad
But I follow the rules

Let this be known
Let this be shown

My body is not your toy
I want a man not a boy
I am a woman not a little girl

Let this be known
Let this be shown

poem by Raesheka Antwine
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Love Is Born

my heart makes up my body parts
and my body parts make up my heart.

for when love strikes you
it touches every part of your being
and this is what i'm seeing.

you get a cold chill, and your hairs
stand up on end.
this is a sign.
this is a trend.

it is felt in so many different forms
that's how love is born.

poem by Louis Rams
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Im sick and tired(written on August 16,2008)

Im sick of pretending im happy
Im tired of pretending i care
all this pain ive been put through
Is too much for me to bare

Im sick of pretending i love life
im tired of living this lie
fed up with trying to hide my hurt
I just want to sit down and cry

Im sick of pretending i hate you
Imtired of pretending to know
The reasons why you left me
Oh why did you have to go

Im sick of trying
Im tired of crying
Yeah im smiling
But inside im dying

poem by Elizabeth Burnworth
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Those Unsaid And Untouched By My Lips

my hands shape what you desire
in willingness my thoughts form the petals
of the flowers of your longings

i cater to love i submit to loving
naked i stand before the judgment of your eyes
you touch me and i become alive
in the days of my famine
my hunger is satisfied
in the days of my thirsts
my tongue seeps the dews of dawn

when you sleep beside my body
your head above my arms unfolded
i look at you and i regret not having said
all that i have seen in the dark

there are images still unspoken
there are still feelings unfelt by your innocence
i look to the sky beyond the windows of our beings
i gather silence like leaves under my feet
i walk away feeling triumphant about what i kept

the treasures of my heart
these i own, and these you must never know
for whatever happened
for all those years.... i have always been alone and happy.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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the Self

the self is a mountain
you can go exploring
some parts are not reachable
and some parts so riveting
you just wish to sing them songs
some parts are caves you can shout
and hear your own echoes
some parts are a make belief
haunted house you can frighten yourself with
some parts are chambers of
mysteries you can get lost on your own

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Who Me?

I am some days
my Best Me
others
I've been submerged
by that Other Me.

Some days
I am fun and funny
others I don that cloak
of sadness,
eat gobs of pity pie
and flagons of dark sorrow.

Other days
I am ethereal,
days lost to bad
or absent memory-
foggy hours
on end some times-
and
as in a dream vision
I arrive back
on Planet Mine
wondering
where I have been.

Some days
the weariness
of not being able to count
on Me-Steady;

feeling burdened
where I long to wring
from my life
the Drama Foam
which fuzzes up
the clarity I need
to connect all of the
aspects of me
into one coherent whole.

I have some parts
I cannot mend
and I have my fear
that if
the good me
touches the bad
me
all I will have left
are the bad parts.

So I keep them separated
from each and me.

But you know
it's only me fearing
my friends tell me'
while there is this battle on
for sure;
that the good parts of me
are so very strong
those are the parts
they are putting their money on.

I guess it true;
I do
like most of me
enough
to write this to you.

Love
Anita.

Root for me.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Lasagna

this is lasagna
your favorite dish
at the bottom is
love
on the second layer
is regret
the fillings of
meaty lust and
spices of
hot desire and on the
top layer is this
pretense

one does not bite it
and then
you settle for hate
fuming madness
of love
unrequited
you wish the tongue
is dead
or the teeth of the
non-taker
crumple into
sand

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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As Happy, Happy, Happy As Can Be

Bricklayer’s like to keep their spirit levels high
Joiner’s and Chippie’s will raise the rafters
They do the things that brings them joy
Things that give them the laughter’s
Their as happy, happy, happy as can be

Nurse’s keep their humour tender
Clown’s like to act the fool
Heating engineer’s like it hot
Ice cream makers keep it cool
Their all happy, happy, happy as can be

I like to be in your arms
Saying I love you’ listening to you saying I love you too
I like to see your smiling eyes
In which my smiling eyes look into
Then I am as happy, happy, happy as can be

You make me so happy, happy, happy as can be
Happiness is me as happy, happy, happy as can be
In love and as happy, happy, happy as can be
In love with you happy forever in love
As happy, happy, happy as can be

poem by Michael Micmac Mccrory
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To The Other World

try standing naked by this mirror
see yourself to every detail
look closer to your eyes
count the waves of your eyelashes
open your mouth and see how many teeth you have
all white, pure white lining up on your pink gums
feel your lips with your fingertips
feel the pulp the flesh of the lower lip
to the upper lip
touch your hair
do not imagine them all black
closely they are not at all
move a little bit closer and see your body
this beautiful human body
flesh, contours, curves, some muscles
the whole of your skin wrapping
everything in your body holding them all
nothing falls, on this erect body, this
god before you, standing steel-like with dignity
in front of the mirror
do not claim you have seen your soul with your eyes
do not lie
be honest to yourself now,
alone, you are alone, do not imagine
any god, any soul, any spirit,
just be honest,
touch your body with your hands
feel the joy of having this body
your body, pinch a part of it to feel
not pain, but just to feel that you are alive,

do you ever ask what made these parts stay as one?
look again at the mirror of this stature
your body, it is you, touching your body

take a hammer, and destroy the mirror
shatter everything to pieces

this is the world without a mirror
there is nothing to reflect you now
nothing to imagine, it is you, the real you

do you ever ask now, where is that other world?

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fit For Forgetting...

i do not wish to
understand you
it is no use
at all, i only have
to have you
perhaps
but i may not have you
for certain
there are no things as such
or
persons personified
in wood
and stone
i do not wish to hold you
i do not have
that power
i am tired
of being lonely and broken
perhaps some parts of me
automate
some parts adjoining to
make a whole
of me again, perhaps
and so i do not wish to have you
and hold you
and even remember you
the years have
taught me
that you are only
such a beauty for my
forgetting
distance fold like
waves
of the sea
spitting foams and
touching skies
and wandering at sunsets
and then
face away like
gentle light
finally embracing the
arms of
night.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Are you happy

Are you happy?
you finally did it.
you push all the wrong buttons
Are you happy?
you think life will be better now,
now that im gone.
Are you happy?
you really didn't love me anyways.
Are you happy?
you can finally stop,
Stop pretending you care
Are you happy?
please tell me this.
Are you happy?

poem by Keri Caldwell
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I Can't Do That Anymore

Cut my hair the way you wanted
Watched you become important
Quit my job to make our new home far away
Now you're Mr. Successful and I'm queen of the treadmill
Trying to stay the size you think that I should stay
I used to dream about what I would be
Last night I dreamed about a washing machine

I keep on giving
But I can't stop living
A woman needs a little something of her own
I like happy endings
I don't like depending
I keep right on pretending
But I can't do that anymore

Now you say I'm being silly
But you don't know me really
You never take the time to ask me how I feel
I keep the checkbook balanced
I decorate your palace
You know I used to think that you were king
Somewhere down deep I know you really love me
But you can't see that what we have's not all I needed

I keep on giving
But I can't stop living
A woman needs a little something of her own
I like happy endings
I don't like depending
I keep right on pretending
But I can't do that anymore

You try to tell me I'm not being fair to you
But life's too short for a selfish attitude

I keep on giving
But I can't stop living
A woman needs a little something of her own
I like happy endings
I don't like depending
I keep right on pretending
But I can't do that anymore

song performed by by Faith Hill from It Matters To Me
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pulling myself together for M'lady Ann Beard

In dreams I can communicate
with disparate parts of me.
I’m learning to appreciate.
The frightening complexity

Of the different parts of me.
Which I must balance constantly
A task I must face every day
so they combine to make me, me..

I am a father and a son.
I am a brother and a friend.
The endless list goes on and on.
It seems as though it has no end.

Somehow I manage to control
at least the parts on public view.
The scattered parts which make the whole
But still conceal a thing or two.

The parts of me I need to change.
I’m sure I can do given time.
Some parts of me are weird and strange.
Like creatures from an earlier time.

The Id tries to assert its will.
The ego sure to disagree.
The super ego bids them both be still.
I just accept they’re part of me.

When other people look at me.
I wonder if they wonder too
If they can see reality.
I am not certain that I do.

Wednesday,02 December 2009
http: //blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers.

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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