City Of Stone
This City is old,
wrapped in the skin of a
maiden whose time is past.
Abandoned by her ghosts
-fled to the countryside
where graves are tended
and people remember.
The buildings speak, no one
listens anymore. The mortar
has memory and stays true.
The stones have integrity and
stand up until young men come
to build new truths and grind the
stone to dust. They are young
men with purpose searching for
the promise of hope fulfilled and
the end of age.
The old men age with wine. No
longer hungry, they have learned
to be full on the only bread worth
eating. Work holds them firmly in
tow, at anchor in the harbor,
content to miss the Sea.
The women are full of grace
except the young and beautiful,
they are full of lust for the dance
and men to hold their hands,
hands that will cradle dreams
keeping them alive in times
of drought. The women of grace
stand in doorways, lean from windows,
hang washing, pasta and dreams.
The children are lost.
Lost to American dreams.
Lost to music, names and the
promise of hope fulfilled, the
end of age.
America where nothing is old, there is
no memory, everyone has purpose,
grace, bread, wine, and truth is green
water flowing from the rock of Moses.
Around the City water recedes
exposing barren mudflats
where even the clams refuse to dig.
And when the wind shifts
instead of salt air what it carries is sand.
The young men age while they sleep.
Women become keepers of dreams.
Old men disappear into the Sea.
Children fly west to purpose,
hope, truth, bearing the torch
they so eagerly lit.
The City will sleep.
Lie dormant with shallow breath
until Her ghosts return,
She sheds Her skin,
is once more the Maiden of old.
poem by Ronald Shields
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The City Children
Around the city places are particular children
Wandering like cruel expenses during the day,
And only in the night do children sleep in the city,
But the city does not turn off its lights in the deep night.
When do they spin the cars and race in the city?
In the night the children play as if wondering,
When they wonder the lights go out.
What does the mission entail?
A commencement of hostilities, a burning desire,
One of alacrity and higher purpose than any older person.
Those wise men in the whole city rely on the night
To quell the minds of the young, the young who might bite.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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These Lost, These Come At A Cost Women
I see these city lights and flashy cars
These beautiful women lost under stars
These daughters and sisters and mothers
These lost women
These come at a cost women
Given a glance then a dance
Given the means to live by the fiends of these beautiful women
Lost in a daze of green
A daze I've seen
Spotlights on these beautiful women
Eyes on these and cheers for these beautiful women
Lies in these and fears in these lost women
These come at a cost women
Show, bought and ready to go
At a price higher then they know
These women worth more then gold
Priceless
But still sold
Oh these lost women
Don't you know your beautiful
Not hot women
That your beautiful
Not meant to be bought women
Beauty needs to be taught in these women
Instead of this that is not
Left in them to rot
Oh these beautiful women
These I've seen
Women whos pupils are all green
Men whos eyes are gazed in between wide thighs
Silent cries eventually taking its toll
Night after night eventually breaking the soul
I see these city lights and flashy cars
These beautiful women lost under stars
These daughters and sisters and mothers
These lost women
These come at a cost women
Don't you know your beautiful
Not hot women
That you’re beautiful
Not meant to be bought women.
poem by Bikramjyoti Kashyop
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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These Lost, These Come At A Cost Women
I see these city lights and flashy cars
These beautiful women lost under stars
These daughters and sisters and mothers
These lost women
These come at a cost women
Given a glance then a dance
Given the means to live by the fiends of these beautiful women
Lost in a daze of green
A daze I've seen
Spotlights on these beautiful women
Eyes on these and cheers for these beautiful women
Lies in these and fears in these lost women
These come at a cost women
Show, bought and ready to go
At a price higher then they know
These women worth more then gold
Priceless
But still sold
Oh these lost women
Don't you know your beautiful
Not hot women
That your beautiful
Not meant to be bought women
Beauty needs to be taught in these women
Instead of this that is not
Left in them to rot
Oh these beautiful women
These I've seen
Women whos pupils are all green
Men whos eyes are gazed in between wide thighs
Silent cries eventually taking its toll
Night after night eventually breaking the soul
I see these city lights and flashy cars
These beautiful women lost under stars
These daughters and sisters and mothers
These lost women
These come at a cost women
Don't you know your beautiful
Not hot women
That you’re beautiful
Not meant to be bought women.
©Copyright 2008
poem by Regan Mackenzie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Young Man's Town
You wake up one morning and it's passed you by.
You don't know when and you don't know why.
You feel like an old memory hangin' round.
And man, you've gotta face it, it's a young man's town.
You knew this day was comin' all along.
So why bitch and moan and say they done you wrong?
Just teach 'em what you know an' pass it on down,
'Cause man, you gotta face it, it's a young man's town.
Chorus:
It's a young man's town,
Full of young man's dreams.
And all God's children
Gotta learn to spread their wings.
Sometimes you gotta stand back,
And watch 'em burn it to the ground,
Even though you built it,
It's a young man's town.
You always seem to be the last to know.
Man, that's just the way that the story goes.
There's nothin' you can do when the fields have turned brown.
Man, you gotta face it, it's a young man's town.
Chorus:
It's a young man's town,
Full of young man's dreams.
And all God's children
Gotta learn to spread their wings.
Sometimes you gotta stand back,
And watch 'em burn it to the ground,
Even though you built it,
It's a young man's town.
Sometimes you gotta stand back,
And watch 'em burn it to the ground.
Even though you built it,
It's a young man's town...
song performed by by Vince Gill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Young Man's Town
You wake up one morning and it's passed you by.
You don't know when and you don't know why.
You feel like an old memory hangin' round.
And man, you've gotta face it, it's a young man's town.
You knew this day was comin' all along.
So why bitch and moan and say they done you wrong?
Just teach 'em what you know an' pass it on down,
'Cause man, you gotta face it, it's a young man's town.
Chorus:
It's a young man's town,
Full of young man's dreams.
And all God's children
Gotta learn to spread their wings.
Sometimes you gotta stand back,
And watch 'em burn it to the ground,
Even though you built it,
It's a young man's town.
You always seem to be the last to know.
Man, that's just the way that the story goes.
There's nothin' you can do when the fields have turned brown.
Man, you gotta face it, it's a young man's town.
Chorus:
It's a young man's town,
Full of young man's dreams.
And all God's children
Gotta learn to spread their wings.
Sometimes you gotta stand back,
And watch 'em burn it to the ground,
Even though you built it,
It's a young man's town.
Sometimes you gotta stand back,
And watch 'em burn it to the ground.
Even though you built it,
It's a young man's town...
song performed by by Vince Gill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sea-Swallows
THIS FELL when Christmas lights were done,
Red rose leaves will never make wine;
But before the Easter lights begun;
The ways are sair fra’ the Till to the Tyne.
Two lovers sat where the rowan blows
And all the grass is heavy and fine,
By the gathering-place of the sea-swallows
When the wind brings them over Tyne.
Blossom of broom will never make bread,
Red rose leaves will never make wine;
Between her brows she is grown red,
That was full white in the fields by Tyne.
“O what is this thing ye have on,
Show me now, sweet daughter of mine?”
“O father, this is my little son
That I found hid in the sides of Tyne.
“O what will ye give my son to eat,
Red rose leaves will never make wine?”
“Fen-water and adder’s meat,
The ways are sair fra’ the Till to the Tyne.”
“Or what will ye get my son to wear,
Red rose leaves will never make wine?”
“A weed and a web of nettle’s hair,
The ways are sair fra’ the Till to the Tyne.”
“Or what will ye take to line his bed,
Red rose leaves will never make wine?”
“Two black stones at the kirkwall’s head,
The ways are sair fra’ the Till to the Tyne.”
“Or what will ye give my son for land,
Red rose leaves will never make wine?”
“Three girl’s paces of red sand,
The ways are sair fra’ the Till to the Tyne.”
“Or what will ye give me for my son,
Red rose leaves will never make wine?”
“Six times to kiss his young mouth on,
The ways are sair fra’ the Till to the Tyne.”
“But what have ye done with the bearing-bread,
And what have ye made of the washing-wine?
Or where have ye made your bearing-bed,
To bear a son in the sides of Tyne?”
“The bearing-bread is soft and new,
There is no soil in the straining wine:
The bed was made between green and blue,
It stands full soft by the sides of Tyne.
“The fair grass was my bearing-bread,
The well-water my washing-wine;
The low leaves were my bearing-bed,
And that was best in the sides of Tyne.”
“O daughter, if ye have done this thing,
I wot the greater grief is mine;
This was a bitter child-bearing,
When ye were got by the sides of Tyne.
“About the time of sea-swallows
That fly full thick by six and nine,
Ye’ll have my body out of the house,
To bury me by the sides of Tyne.
“Set nine stones by the wall for twain,
Red rose leaves will never make wine;
For the bed I take will measure ten,
The ways are sair fra’ the Till to the Tyne.
“Tread twelve girl’s paces out for three,
Red rose leaves will never make wine;
For the pit I made has taken me,
The ways are sair fra’ the Till to the Tyne.”
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Young Love
There are times - when you know
Love is lost to he who hesitates and you've got that
Feeling now you know it too well
Say o.k. - to your dreams
Never let that chance go by again
If it's love you need then listen and listen well
You've got to run like a young love
You've got to love like young love
Believe me you'll be a young love
You don't need to be anymore
You can think like a young love
Be strong like a young love
You can run like a young love
You don't need to be anymore
Live it now - everyday
'cos you know there is no better way
And in time you'll understand it's all in your heart
Lightning strikes - in the rain
But you know inside you're strong again
You can hear the thunder roll
But you stand apart
You've got to run like a young love
You can love like young love
Believe me you'll be a young love
You don't need to be anymore
As long as you think like a young love
Be strong like a young love
You can run like a young love
You don't need to be anymore
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Mountain Of Poverty
this is what i can tell you:
the children are running in the hills
looking for their favorite butterflies to play
chasing dreams, i suppose, who knows
what they really know and
feel, i was once a child myself, perhaps i have the right to guess
what simple wants they have,
freedom, but i can tell you about something else,
their breakfast today is only brown sugar and rice,
and they have not taken their baths in the river because
the water is dirty, and there is no water system in the hills,
primitive, and still undeveloped, the grasses are not cut
tall and wild, and the coconut trees are not bearing much fruits,
there is drought, and the tenants do not have a good harvest
of their upland rice and there are rats infesting the rice fields,
it rains so hard, the road is slippery and we all have to walk slowly
to keep themselves warm, the men drink wine and smoke
the women do not weave mats anymore, they're sold cheap
and they are so disappointed with what they are getting
sugar is a precious commodity here, no coffee,
salt is expensive, salted fish is a luxury,
bread is like gold here and children do not know what is bread all about
cookies do not exist here
stone age, this is stone age in the midst of an expanding world
the children here are left out
i stare at them as they throw stones at play,
dirt and foul smell, but on the other hand i look at the pictures
that i took on that day
less the smell, less the dirt on their faces,
they are so beautiful, and the mountains are still hopeful.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Courtroom Is Empty
the courtroom is empty,
the gavel untouched.
no hands on the book,
no jury of twelve.
(and the hands of the clock
have stopped!)
small children killed, tossed in the trash,
women abused, old people hungry, alone.
young girls sold into slavery
young boys sold into war
homeless ghosts walk the halls,
without hope in man or God.
and there's no sound, no feeling,
not even a breath of air
(and the hands of the clock
have stopped!)
an American tragedy,
or just human tragedy.
justice bought and sold,
afforded by just the few.
the wheels of Wall Street turn,
politicians barter with lives.
drinking the blood of the babies
that will never be born!
the takers keep taking,
and the honest man falls
to die nameless in the ditch,
covered by ashes and dust.
and there's no sound, no feeling,
not even a breath of air.
(the hands of the clock
have stopped!)
the courtroom is empty
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lagos
City of noise, fumes, dirt and corruption
City of beaches, money, luxury and lust
A city where your wisdom is lost
Where serenity is covered in sweat and blood
Lagos will disregard your identity
Hires blind men as tour guides
Desperate hours in internet cafes
While the gambler awaits his reward
The souls of men held hostage in hotel rooms
Privacy is non existent
And loneliness is right by your side
Your sleep is surrounded by tears and sorrow
Lagos the city of false dreams
Salt on the open wounds of insignificance
Morality lost during nights of surrender
Among oppression hope barely survives
Dreams of a land in the distance
Remain unfulfilled in a cloud of promises
Promises of a better tomorrow
Only found in the arms of true love
poem by Kristina Louisa Carr
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Old Man So Young
Old man so young
Old tricks, new belt, old bag o’ nails
New shoes, same feet, now going flat
To me, a young man, so full of heart
An old man full of himself, just hisself
Old man so young
Old skin, new cells, old bag o’ bones
New hat, same eyes, now needing sight
To me, a young hero, rising from scarring fights
A rich man full of himself, just hisself
Old man so young
Old voice, new teeth, old bag o’ sand
New hip, same dance, soul in his veins
To me, a young baron, whose time will long reign
An epic full of himself, just hisself
030108
poem by Sylvi Sylva
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Memory and Oblivion
When all is lost, there is still a memory
From which a new city can be built in a new world.
Those with memory will be wealthy.
Oblivion cures the old wounds, and you must agree,
There is only the past and the future on the path;
When all is lost, there is still a memory.
Memory will save oblivion from a bad reverie;
When the new city is built, it will be an abode,
Bestowed by those with memory to make others wealthy.
Before the temple, in the middle of the city,
Keepers of the fire all abided.
When all is lost, there is still a memory.
Fire will be born from night to be
New light when all knowledge is swallowed
And those with memory will be wealthy.
A new rose will bloom from the dark sea,
A city revived from memory and abroad;
When all is but a memory, there is still memory.
Those with memory will be wealthy.
poem by Dejan Stojanovic
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Kansas City
PAUL McCARTNEY - KANSAS CITY
Kansas City, Kansas City here I come.
Kansas City, Kansas City here I come.
Got some pretty little women there, I'm gonna get me one.
Standing on the corner, crawl straight in my hand
With my Kansas City Baby, now by the Kansas City world.
Well the water in the city, well, taste like Georgia Pie
Going to Kansas City where it tastes like sugar, oh I know it.
Kansas City, Kansas City here I come.
Got some pretty little women there, I'm gonna get me one.
Kansas City, here every night you gave me none
Kansas City, surely looked like they were done
You know they turned it around now Baby, gonna scratch it, gonna run.
And rock with my Baby, rock with my Baby, one more time
Rock with my Baby, Kansas City Baby, one more time
Went to the city for, for this souvenir in my hand.
Well I might take a plane, might take a train
If I have to walk you won't grind in the same.
Oh, Kansas City, Kansas City here I come.
Got some crazy little women there, I'm gonna get me one.
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Young And Pretty (Black Rose)
Come from the suburbs into the city
They say you can make it
If you're young and pretty
Dreams must be tall
Ain't it a pity
But they say you can make it
If you're young and pretty
So I sit inside my dressing room
Waiting for the band to play
And I wonder what is left to loose
Where is anyone, any way
Outside a neon, face from exhaustion
Screaming with promise of what's inside
But nobody's watching
I go for the money, my wallet's a liar
Nothing inside cause the world is on fire
So I give them that old routine
No one listens, any way
When I fight for what it means
God I wish I had someone here today
So I give them that old routine
No one listens, any way
When I fight for what it means
God I wish I had someone here today
Come from the suburbs into the city
They say you can make it
If you're young and pretty
Come from the sidelines into the city
They say you can make it
If you're young and pretty
They say you can make it
If you're young and pretty
song performed by by Cher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kansas City (1st Time)
Kansas City, Kansas City here I come. Kansas City, Kansas City here I come.
Got some pretty little women there, I'm gonna get me one.
Standing on the corner, crawl straight in my hand
With my Kansas City Baby, now by the Kansas City world.
Well the water in the city, well, taste like Georgia Pie
Going to Kansas City where it tastes like sugar, oh I know it.
Kansas City, Kansas City here I come.
Got some pretty little women there, I'm gonna get me one.
Kansas City, here every night you gave me none
Kansas City, surely looked like they were done
You know they turned it around now Baby, gonna scratch it, gonna run.
And rock with my Baby, rock with my Baby, one more time
Rock with my Baby, Kansas City Baby, one more time
Went to the city for, for this souvenir in my hand.
Well I might take a plane, might take a train
If I have to walk you won't grind in the same.
Oh, Kansas City, Kansas City here I come.
Got some crazy little women there, I'm gonna get mo one
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Meeting
Quite carelessly I turned the newsy sheet;
A song I sang, full many a year ago,
Smiled up at me, as in a busy street
One meets an old-time friend he used to know.
So full it was, that simple little song,
Of all the hope, the transport, and the truth,
Which to the impetuous morn of life belong,
That once again I seemed to grasp my youth.
So full it was of that sweet, fancied pain
We woo and cherish ere we meet with woe,
I felt as one who hears a plaintive strain
His mother sang him in the long ago.
Up from the grave the years that lay between
That song's birthday and my stern present came
Like phantom forms and swept across the scene,
Bearing their broken dreams of love and fame.
Fair hopes and bright ambitions that I knew
In that old time, with their ideal grace,
Shone for a moment, then were lost to view
Behind the dull clouds of the commonplace.
With trembling hands I put the sheet away;
Ah, little song! the sad and bitter truth
Struck like an arrow when we met that day!
My life has missed the promise of its youth.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Dancing on Starlight
The magnificent watchers
In the sky
Pure white
Like angels
Heavenly angels watching
As we gaze
As we wonder at the awesomeness
The vastness
We create
We create dreams
Love
Hope
Dreams of love
Love of hope
Hope that dreams come true
The benevolent orb
So bright
So serene
Guarding the watchers
The watchers that protect us
Our guardians
As we gaze
As we wonder at our guardians
Our protectors
We create
We create dreams
Love
Hope
Dreams of love
Love of hope
Hope that the dreams come true
If only we could dance
Dance upon the starlight
Dance among our keepers
This would surely be bliss
As we create
We create our dreams
Of love
And hope
Dreaming of love
Loving hope
Hoping that dreams come true
You create
You fill my dreams
With love
With hope
I dream of your love
Love the hope you give
And wish my dreams to reality
poem by Tristan Maverick
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Stallions Hope
I believe that horses can heal,
I believe that their hearts feel all that we feel,
I believe that the joy from riding is real,
I believe that horses really can heal.
I see children riding and smiling with joy,
I see happy healthy girls and boys,
I see hope for life and wonder renewed,
I see love for the children coming to you.
I see dreams for the kids, who once were lost,
I see helping hands, no matter the cost,
I see friends for kids, who once were tossed,
I see children laughing and no longer lost.
I do believe that horses can heal,
I believe that horses make recovery real,
I believe being sober is a much better deal,
I really believe that horses can heal.
And I know that this land, its buildings and stones,
Insures that our children are never alone,
Insures that our horses and children are one,
Insures that their lives will finally be won.
Yes I do believe that horses can heal.
That recovery hope and dreams are real,
That God and love can make a child whole,
That all of this is the Stallions Hope role.
poem by Sandra Osborne
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Truth
They fall through time as a leaf from a tree
Trees so green
Green as life, green as death, as the souls
Souls that are lost, lost forever
Forever in time forever in truth
Truth that shall not be spoken
Spoken by only those who know the truth
Truth that only they know, only they see
See through their eyes, listen through their ears
Ears that have heard the truth, that hold it in their hands
Hands so cold, so hard from truth from hope
Hope that they have lost
Lost as a shell in the sea, the sea of truth
Truth that flows in all of us, everyone
everyone who stands in the shower of faith
Faith that some have lost, some gain
Gain all the truth, hope, faith, love
Love that haunts, love that stays
Stays with us all, stays in our souls
Souls we shall loose, in the battle of time
Time that haunts us all
All who feel
Feel the pain, all who know
Know the truth
(just fel tlike trying a format that my friend said I should try. It has what ever word that a line ends with the next line starts with the same word. EX. you sit in the fire
Fure of truth so I dicided I would try it. hope you like)
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Blue Stone
Someday, when you are twenty-four and walking through
The street of a foreign city...
Let me go with you a little way,
Let me be that stranger you won't notice.
And when you turn and enter a bar full of young men
and women, and your laughter rises,
Like the stones of a path up a mountain,
To say that no one has died,
I promise I will not follow.
poem by Larry Levis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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