A Photograph of mother
A young girl poses for a photo,
soft features, plump hands, full lips,
a sweet expression, under an archway of flowers
hung in spring and blooming now.
One day, the girl in the photograph
will be my mother.
She'll grow weary, lose her youthful glow.
toil and sweat.
She'll suffer pain, great hardship
but she'll not want for love
for that I will give
all the rest of her life.
Her journey has not yet begun,
look in her eyes, see how they glisten,
they yearn for the future,
for happiness and fun.
Somehow, if only I could warn her,
let her know life's pitfalls
but I am but a thing of the night
not yet born, waiting……
My opening lines have not
been written, I'm just thoughts, drifting….
Peacefully I sleep, quietly,
as she poses for her photo.
Some day, when she has gone
when she dies, I will remember this moment
and write a poem about
her photograph
poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Carrying Your Love With Me
Wherever I go,
I carry your love with me
within a crumpled photograph
tucked in my wallet.
That photograph you gave me
so long ago.
It maybe old and faded,
the corners maybe bent,
but I see in that photo
all that love represents.
Our golden years together,
our happiness and pain,
and our love rescuing us
time and time again.
I remember our courting days
as we raced hand in hand
across the golden sadly beaches
towards our sunset together.
Though you reached that sunset before me,
no doubt I will follow you soon,
and we will be reunited
in each other’s arms.
However, in the meantime,
I have wonderful memories
locked within this old photograph,
and I keep carrying your love with me
wherever I may go.
9 April 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Phone Gift
Cedric gave you a photograph
in the playground
making sure no one
was looking his way first
Christina said to give you this
he said
you took the photograph
and gazed at a picture
of a girl laughing
with dark hair
looking at the camera
in mid pose
thanks
you said
putting the photo
in the inside pocket
of your jacket
she said she'd meet you
on the playing field lunchtime
Cedric informed
unimpressed
ok thanks
you said
to Cedric's departing back
at lunchtime
after eating your sandwiches
and fruitcake
your mother had made
and the watered-down juice
you went to the playing field
and looked for Christina
amongst the hordes
of boys and girls
basking in the sun
or playing ball
then hands covered your eyes
and a voice said
guess who?
you said
Marilyn Monroe?
the hands left your eyes
and Christina said
no it's me
and she stood there
her eyes almost feeling you
as they moved over you
did you get my photo?
she asked
yes it's in my pocket
you said
don't show it to others
she said
I'll keep it under my pillow
you said
I sneaked it out
while no one was looking
this morning
she informed
I'll be for it
if they find out
she said
when was it taken?
you asked
last summer
she said
when I was 12
you don't look 12
in the photo
you said
do I look 13 now?
she asked
she grabbed your hand
and walked you across
the playing field
not waiting
for your reply
you wondered if Goldfinch
or Rolland were watching
while kicking ball
Goldfinch said girls
were an alien race
and best steered clear of
at best ignored
she stopped on the edge
of the playing field
where a small woods
formed the boundary of the field
and looking back
towards the school
some distance away
she whispered in your ear
you'll see just how 13 I am
in that woods one day
and you gave a sigh
noticing big puffy clouds
in a bright blue sky.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Photograph
Of all the worldly goods I own,
Of all that I possess,
One photograph means more to me,
Much more than all the rest.
Who took this precious photograph
I couldn't really say;
I only know the subject is
More lovely than the day.
A face so radiant, so serene,
And known and loved so well;
This photograph I hold so dear,
I'd never give or sell.
True beauty comes from deep within,
It's something you can't buy;
It's captured on my photograph,
And cameras never lie.
It may be silly fancy,
And mock me if you will;
But when I choose to look at it
All time is standing still.
I know I'm looking at the past,
But I don't care, you see
My Mother's eyes are filled with love,
And looking right at me.
Written Nov 1994
poem by John Carter Brown
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Photograph
Look at this photograph
Everytime I do it makes me laugh
How did our eyes get so red
And what the hell is on Joey's head
And this is where I grew up
I think the present owner fixed it up
I never knew we'd ever went without
The second floor is hard for sneaking out
And this is where I went to school
Most of the time had better things to do
Criminal record says I broke in twice
I must have done it half a dozen times
I wonder if it's too late
Should i go back and try to graduate
Life's better now than it was back then
If I was them I wouldn't let me in
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, god, I
Every memory of looking out the back door
I had the photo album spread out on my bedroom floor
It's hard to say it, time to say it
Goodbye, goodbye.
Every memory of walking out the front door
I found the photo of the friend that I was looking for
It's hard to say it, time to say it
Goodbye, goodbye.
Remember the old arcade
Blew every dollar that we ever made
The cops hated us hangin' out
They say somebody went and burned it down
We used to listen to the radio
And sing along with every song we know
We said someday we'd find out how it feels
To sing to more than just the steering wheel
Kim's the first girl I kissed
I was so nervous that I nearly missed
She's had a couple of kids since then
I haven't seen her since god knows when
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, god, I
Every memory of looking out the back door
I had the photo album spread out on my bedroom floor
It's hard to say it, time to say it
Goodbye, goodbye.
Every memory of walking out the front door
I found the photo of the friend that I was looking for
It's hard to say it, time to say it
Goodbye, goodbye.
I miss that town
I miss the faces
You can't erase
You can't replace it
I miss it now
I can't believe it
So hard to stay
Too hard to leave it
If I could I relive those days
I know the one thing that would never change
Every memory of looking out the back door
I had the photo album spread out on my bedroom floor
It's hard to say it, time to say it
Goodbye, goodbye.
Every memory of walking out the front door
I found the photo of the friend that I was looking for
It's hard to say it, time to say it
Goodbye, goodbye.
Look at this photograph
Everytime I do it makes me laugh
Everytime I do it makes me...
poem by Sirius White
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When I Was A Young Girl
(A Song of Old Ballads)
WHEN I was a young girl, all in a green arbor,
When I was a young girl in Springtimes gone by
All the long days I went singing and smiling,
Down by the roses the sweet days beguiling,
Love in the arbor and love in the sky . . .
When I was a young girl, a young girl, a young girl,
When I was a young girl, how happy was I!
Oh, the long days I must sit at my sampler,
Oh, the slow way that the still time would go!
I longed to be running across the bright heather,
'Off with the silk gown and on with the leather,
Following the raggle-taggle gypsies, oh!'
When I was a young girl, a young girl, a young girl,
When I was a young girl, a long time ago!
When I was a young girl in days that were golden,
When I was a young girl, and life had no smart,
All the world seemed a place for my playing,
Full of great lovers to come to me, saying,
'Madam, I give you the keys of my heart . . .'
When I was a young girl, a young girl, a young girl,
When I was a young girl, and dreaming apart!
When I was a young girl, I dreamed of my lover,
A tall cavalier who should whisper me low,
'Love, on your lips are red roses a-blowing,
I am your true love, and fast is time going
Am I your true love? Oh, say yes or no!'
When I was a young girl, a young girl, a young girl–
When I was a young girl, a long time ago!
When I was a young girl there came my true lover,
Swiftly I knew him in glad days gone by;
Never a sword or a lovelock or feather,
But oh, at his touch 'twas our hearts came together,
Love in the arbor and love in the sky . . .
When I was a young girl, a young girl, a young girl,
When I was a young girl, how happy was I!
poem by Margaret Widdemer
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The Cat Poem - with discussion
I must not write a poem
because I want to write a poem.
I must try to write the poem
when the poem has to be written.
Yes but what if my cat dies?
Yes, what if my cat dies
and I know my cat lived a
good and honest life
I can write a poem?
I can can’t I
I can have a cat poem can’t I
Life of an honest cat and that
Yes I know, I said the cat was honest
but I didn’t say that I was, and
I lied about the cat
________________________________
Discussion:
The poem begins as a slightly
finger wagging exercise in telling
people not to write just because
they want to write a poem - it must
be DRIVEN by the poem's insistence
on being written. The poet is
unable to sustain this arrogance
hence the cat. Then, using the
cat as an excuse, writes the poem
but in the end has to admit that
the cat was just a device to break
the rule outlined in the 4 opening
lines. (Secretly of course the poet
believes or at least hopes that the
poem is good enough to excuse itself
and be allowed to break the rule.)
But of course it isn't
poem by by unknown author
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The Photograph
Hands old and poor, her back bent and sore,
She lifts from the drawer, the photograph
Though tattered and torn, through years it has worn,
But still bears the form of the man she knew
Her eyes are weak, spilling tears on her cheek
Her lips start to speak to the photograph
She tells him with pride, she still loves him inside
Though years ago died, la da da da
La, la da, la da, la da da, la da, la da da,
La la la da da,
La, la da, la da, la da da, la da, la da da,
La la la da da
And all of the people she knew, who she knows no more
Who dont know the score say,
We wonder why, she never married, such a
Pretty girl she was, such a lovely face she had,
Such a pretty thing she was, once
She turns to her right, to put out the light,
And wishes goodnight to the photograph
Her love, though its strong and lasted this long,
And goes on and on, shes still in love
La, la da, la da, la da da, la da, la da da,
La la la da da,
La, la da, la da, la da da, la da, la da da,
La la la da da
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life In Newspaper
Some life stop their life on newspaper.
some life loss their life on newspaper.
loss their life like a photograph.
Loss their life in a column of newspaper.
Loss their life in the lightening photo of star.
Speech of false leader.
Profile of high profile cader.
Photo of dustbin child.
Fulfil the newspaper.
Now life,
Now love,
Addvertisement of peace,
or humanity.
Everything u found here.
Now life loss his life in newspaper.
poem by Imtiaz Emon
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My Girl of the Future
My girl of the future
is patiently waiting for a conversation
for the opportunity to see my face
enjoying every waking moment of our talks
My girl of the future
is patiently waiting for me to finally arrive
for me to be with her
so this distance crumbles and tumbles
My girl of the future
is there for me
slow to speak
and ready to talk
My girl of the future
is willing to look past
my fault here
and my short coming there
My girl of the future
is expecting me
I'll be there soon enough
and no longer will we toil in worry
My girl of the future
is loving
understanding
and above all else, beautiful
My girl of the future
is my future
poem by Ben Bergeth
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Two birds on a tree
Look at this old photograph..
some of these old photos look
more ancient than their, what,
hundred-and-twenty years;
as if the very air was different, then?
This one’s simply of
two birds in a tree:
one sits and watches;
the other eats the fruits..
this moment, frozen, framed, in time,
takes on the epic stature
of a metaphor, a myth:
what of the previous second
in our passing time? What
of the next second?
Where have those birds come from,
where may they go next?
If we cease to patronise
their ‘bird-brains’, see them
closer to their God than we
whose minds depart so far from nature…
if we think they think, in thoughts
which we may share – then,
what are they thinking? what
do they think of one another?
I look again at the photo, speculate;
the photo grows in my concern
to some great tree of primal Paradise…
the Tree of Knowledge, could it be?
Is the one bird thinking,
what a fine place this is to rest!
A place to hide, if so need be,
among its leaves; a height,
an observation post,
I still, the world about its business;
in stillness, I a little nearer to God,
just a little lower than the angels,
without beating my wings to find
a heaven above…
Is the other bird thinking,
what a fine restaurant I’ve found,
that God provided; I so hungry
on my way; how much I need to eat
to give me strength for further flight…
and have these two birds even noticed
each other, and each other’s state?
Are they two siblings from the self-same nest,
flying together through their lives;
loving one another until the last birdfall?
Two rivals, just about to fight to death?
Or, two fore-flyers of the same great flock,
about to land and strip the tree of fruit,
then rest, God-filled, to know Him in that stillness?
These thoughts; an ancient photograph;
now I wonder about the unknown photographer
who saw the world, in two birds on a tree.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Unfortunate
Fold her hands upon her breast,
And let her sweetly sleep.
She has found a perfect rest,
Beneath her winding sheet.
Her weary limbs are now at rest,
And free from toil and pain;
Her weary soul from earth has left,
But in Heaven lives again.
Death has closed her mild blue eyes,
That once was full of mirth,
Her lovely form once full of life,
Will now return to earth.
Touch her gently, let her lie,
This forsaken girl forlorn;
Tears may fall from strangers' eyes,
O'er her silent form.
She was a poor erring girl,
A wanderer alone,
Friends she had none in this world,
Nor a place she could call home.
She's found a home bright and fair
In that world above,
Angels dwell together there,
In perfect peace and love,
Place her gently in her grave,
And let her sweetly sleep.
Judge her not; for he who gave
Her life, her soul will keep.
poem by Julia A Moore
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Little girl! ! ! (please read my poems i want to know what u all think)
Little girl don't you cry, everything will be ok
Little girl please just listen to what i have got to say
Little girl make a wish, sit back, watch the stars and pray
Little girl some one will soon come along to help you guide your way
Little girl just relax and go and play
Little girl someone will be there to brighten up your day
Little girl your still young you have plenty of time
Little girl just talk to me then you'll be fine
Little girl im not a perfessional but il try my very best
Little girl i just dont like to see you in this horrible mess
Little girl take my hand, be happy don't be blue
Little girl im sorry to say but it was not true
Little girl dont you look for love, let it come and find you
Little girl you will just have to wait theres nothing else you can do
Little girl please stop sobbing, because you made a mistake
Little girl just remember its an easy thing to make
Little girl you got to beleive that is true
Little girl nobodys perfect not even you
Little girl your so special in your own little way
Little girl don't listen to what anyone else as got to say
Little girl i know it's hard, but please don't you give in
Little girl please be strong, dont ever let him win
Little girl you're not alone, that will always be true
Little girl so young and sweet, I'll always be hear for you
Little girl close your eyes and try and let the past go
Little girl if you dont give it a shot you will never know.
poem by Caz Faulkner
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The Girl Of My Life(2)
its for my di
the only di i have in my life
so named it
the girl of my life (2)
the girl of my life
my sweeet di
sweet enough to steal anyone's heart
caring enough to fill your heart with pure emotions
lovely enough to make you happy in a sweet word
loving enough that you will flow in her love
the girl of my life
my sweet di(sis)
talked me first
to read her poem first
i replied last
well i will try to comment is first
the girl of my life
my sweet di
i told her to be friends
she said its ok to be your friends
i wa shappy and she was i don't know
the girl of my life
my sweet di
she is with me in my dificult situations
she is with me when i am taking decisions
she is with me when i need a friend
and she will be with me till my end
the girl of my life
my sweet di
who loves beutiful poems
who eats kfc chickens
who likes to be myy sister
who says you are my sweet brother
the girl of my life
my sweet di
who desires like a great lady
who admires the great personalty
who has the power of intelligence(knowledge)
who is enough to teach me english
the girl of my life
my sweet di
who scolds me when i am making stupid things
when i am getting breaking
when i am needing
when i am crying
the girl of my life
my sweet di
who never have lied anything
who has the trust on me
who believes i am the sweetu of her
i am the bro of her
the girl of my life
my sweet di
i have to make some promises for you
i will be with you
i will be your proudy bro
i will be your sweetu bro
the gril of my life
my sweet di
i love you a lot
can not think of the life ahead
without the soft touch of your heart
without the caring fingers os your palm
i need your fingers to hold aand walk wiht you.
my sweet di my real girl of my life..(my anju di)
poem by Rajnish Jena
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Take A Picture
Just a picture, could mean a couple words,
But the one I hold dearly close to my heart,
Means more to me than anything else,
This photograph, you I love in black and white.
There are so many things I could say,
Though one word stands out amongst the rest,
It starts with love and ends with you,
The one I want to share with every single moment.
To be with you, at your side, and experience the joys,
Or you in my arms, holding you close to me, as you cry,
We're a team together, we work things out,
So we can both remember these dreams.
I've held your picture as I dream of us,
One day, we'll be holding our picture,
Wedding bells or birthday wishes,
Whichever comes first, I'll always be there.
Be there, when we say our wedding vows,
Or holding your hand as we welcome our new child,
Cheering you on when you go to your new job,
Seeing you smile as life passes us by.
I don't know what else to write or say,
As I look at the picture in my hands,
Putting my pen down and wishing you goodnight,
This photo of you, in black and white.
Angst
enrico poses with a beautiful wife
and two kids as Kayang also sends a
photograph of
a family
they were old flames taking separate roads
on their new lives
it was really unexpected but in life
the unexpected always asserts itself
the next thing i know is another
angst
someone dies and someone grieves
secretly
for fear that the grief may hurt someone
that you
pretend loving
pretense is another fact of life
a stranger that stays which keeps everyone in the house
tiptoeing
an open door does not necessarily welcome you
someone wants to close it
but couldn't
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Memories of the Greater Good
Get out of the way.
Just let me take the bullet for you.
One mistake
That is all it takes.
Then it all over.
Waking up sober.
The reality.
Get ready.
Hold on to my cape.
Let me give you my escape.
Go before it's to late.
Don't look back.
Their is not time to second guess.
Just react.
The rain washes all these thoughts away.
I was just looking into another photograph in a my album.
The memories have each their own little sound.
As a bird chips in a melody.
So do these great harmony.
They're you were.
Sitting by the pool all alone.
So I just went right up and started talking to you.
Breaking the ice with a smile.
I had no since of style.
The shyness I fought through.
The fog moved.
So focused on getting to the bottom of what was wrong.
What was this pretty attractive young girl moping around for.
Then I met him.
And It all became so clear.
The face of many beings.
Each a different narcissist.
A falling out, the had already been spread.
It started to grow.
It started to sprout.
Peeking it ugly head out of the ground.
The rain washes all these thoughts away.
I was just looking into another photograph in a my album.
The memories have each their own little sound.
As a bird chips in a melody.
So do these great harmony.
It was too late things were put into motion.
With love as my devotion.
I made a sacrifice, the first of many.
I took a dive and let him beat the hell out of me.
For I was smart enough to know what would happen next.
His evil intentions shown.
No longer was he in control.
The spell had been broken.
He hated me, he tried to destroy me many times.
Personally, mentally, objectively.
I took his girl right before his eyes.
It didn't last long but it didn't matter because it was to protect her.
It was to make her stronger..
She would no longer believe any of his lies.
The rain washes all these thoughts away.
I was just looking into another photograph in a my album.
The memories have each their own little sound.
As a bird chips in a melody.
So do these great harmony.
He could no longer hide behind his ego.
He was exposed.
That was the first of many stabs and jabs I took at him.
Mortal enemies.
By his character.
The code he live by.
They say judge not, unless you want to be judged.
But the things he did I couldn't just look the other way.
I should have left someone else be the hero of the day.
Then maybe she would be with me.
But for the greater good was my destiny.
The rain washes all these thoughts away.
I was just looking into another photograph in a my album.
The memories have each their own little sound.
As a bird chips in a melody.
So do these great harmony.
I already knew it before I intervened.
Even now I don't think I would have changed a thing.
For there was happiness in which I brought.
Their was never another a broken smile from her.
Not like that one.
Always laughing, always looking to be entertained.
Seeking the next best thing.
Loneliness would never settle well.
And this was her down fall.
Not by him but other men.
Quick to jump on the band wagon.
She was damaged, by a blonde hair, blue eyed demon.
So pretty on the outside.
Some say he looked liked johnny depp.
I don't see the resemblance.
But just maybe.
The rain washes all these thoughts away.
I was just looking into another photograph in a my album.
The memories have each their own little sound.
As a bird chips in a melody.
So do these great harmony.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Source
The sleep that flits on baby's eyes-does anybody know from where
it comes? Yes, there is a rumour that it has its dwelling where,
in the fairy village among shadows of the forest dimly lit with
glow-worms, there hang two shy buds of enchantment. From there it
comes to kiss baby's eyes.
The smile that flickers on baby's lips when he sleeps-does
anybody know where it was born? Yes, there is a rumour that a young
pale beam of a crescent moon touched the edge of a vanishing autumn
cloud, and there the smile was first born in the dream of a dew
washed morning-the smile that flickers on baby's lips when he
sleeps.
The sweet, soft freshness hat blooms on baby's limbs-does
anybody know where it was hidden so long? Yes, when the mother was
a young girl it lay pervading her heart in tender and silent
mystery of love-the sweet, soft freshness that has bloomed on
baby's limbs.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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A girl of my life
The girl of my life
Turned me on
Made me stun
Told me hon.
The girl of my life
Said me be man
Come with me you will get fun
Never leave you hon.
Never make you alone
The girl of my life
Changed my feelings
Care my feelings
Loved my feelings
And described how valuable the feelings
The girl of my life
Who came with a spring in my life
Who made me feel that every season is spring if she is in my life
Who just show me how much innocence is in my life
What should i do in my life
The girl of my life
Who was a blessing for me
Who was not a girl a goddess for me
Whose voice was so adorable than every singers
Whose only word makes me feel the heaven
Whose one cute smile make the best for her
Whose one word hurt me so much that i deleted some of mine internet accounts
The girl of my life
Whom i love so much
Whom i wanna marry
Whom i wanna make mine forever
And ever and ever and ever
who is the one except who i cannot think anything
Who is my destiny
THE GIRL OF MY LIFE
MY RYTHIM OF LIFE
MY LOVE OF LIFE
MY HEART OF LIFE
MY POEM OF LIFE
MY SONG OF LIFE
MY DESTINY OF LIFE
MY AIM OF LIFE
MY DREAM OF LIFE
MY ANGEL OF LIFE
MY ANGEL DREAMY OF LIFE
THE SWEETEST THING OF MY LIFE
THE ONE AND ONLY POSIBILITY OF MY LIFE
THE GIRL OF MY LIFE
THE REAL LIVE OF MY LIFE
THE FUTURE OF MY LIFE
THE UNSAID WORDS OF MY LIFE
THE NE AND ONLY BODY LANGUAGE OF MY LIFE
THE DEPATURE AND BREAK WAS THE SADDEST PART OF MY LIFE
THE GIRL OF MY LIFE
A GIRL OF MY LIFE
poem by Rajnish Jena
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The Perfect Girl For Me :)
the girl i want in my life is...
a girl that would love me...
a girl that would never leave me...
a girl that is sweet...
a girl that thinks about there cowboy every night...
a girl that will never turn on you in the time of need...
a girl that is never afraid to smile while we dance...
a girl that never lies...
a girl that will laugh and not be shy in talking about something...
a girl thats not afraid to show there emotions...
a girl that will be there no matter what happenes to me...
a girl that will make me smile...
a girl that wont use me...
a girl that is willing to be there for the rest of my life...
the girl i want in my life is........
poem by Tim Woodard
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Girl That Never Smiles
I know a girl, she never smiles,
Her lashes a-sparkling and cold.
I know a girl, she never frowns,
A green bird’s wing on her cheek.
I know a girl, she never laughs,
Flames dancing around her throat.
I know a girl, she never cries,
Her lips never move as she speaks.
I know a girl, she never sleeps,
She poses with dignified pride.
I know a girl, she never stirs,
Her stare shows no sign of remorse.
I know a girl, she never loves,
She knows better than to hide.
I know a girl, she’ll never fade,
I surrender to her silent force.
poem by Anthony J. O.
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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