Bound By Ceiling
Sitting at the edge of a bubble
uncooled, trying to light an eternal flame of anonymity;
counter the wrangler, one skull in each hand,
of ancestors, you prepare for the crime of breaking
the umbilical cord.
Ostracized, you forge the ariel in arid zone,
burned, one patch on the eye, rubber thighs,
sniped at, lay still in a pool of blood,
in cauldron of terror, the brilliance of sun cracks
the marble statues.
Avarice of black boots mirrors the borewell;
washes out the color of smiles on blue lips.
Fireflies sink in darkness of punishment.
poem by Satish Verma
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Related quotes
Try Painting Something In Two Colors Only
the duality of just red and black
red for luck as the chinese sees it
and black for goodness
(remember good guys wear black
as the americans
put it)
but i do not really believe what the chinese
or the american believes it to be
to the French
in Les Miserables
red is the color of despair
and to us
Filipinos, black is the color of mourning
equate it with despair
when idealism dies
when our ancestors pass away
when we do not think of them anymore
black, death and red,
blood,
and
something thicker than water
darkness, and coldness, and being lost because
'you are drunk and you are standing
on the edge of the roof'
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sylvia Plath's Welcome Poem For Ariel Escalona
Ariel
Stasis in darkness.
Then the substanceless blue
Pour of tor and distances.
God's lioness,
How one we grow,
Pivot of heels and knees! -The furrow
Splits and passes, sister to
The brown arc
Of the neck I cannot catch,
Nigger-eye
Berries cast dark
Hooks -
Black sweet blood mouthfuls,
Shadows.
Something else
Hauls me through air -
Thighs, hair;
Flakes from my heels.
White
Godiva, I unpeel -
Dead hands, dead stringencies.
And now I
Foam to wheat, a glitter of seas.
The child's cry
Melts in the wall.
And I
Am the arrow,
The dew that flies,
Suicidal, at one with the drive
Into the red
Eye, the cauldron of morning.
P.S.
sylvia and the rest of the girls who know you
send their best regards. Still whole to find the holes?
and stiff and tickling?
musta ka na conejo? good, you're still with us.
WELCOME TO THE SHOW.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sad To Be Without You
Sad to be without you
Sad to laugh withot you
Sad to live without you
Because I feel that
The umbilical cord
Broke after you died
And I was left behind
Feeling sad that
I was not connected
To that umbilical cord
poem by Aldo Kraas
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I Am A Child
I am a child, Ill last a while.
You cant conceive of the pleasure in my smile.
You hold my hand, rough up my hair,
Its lots of fun to have you there.
God gave to you, now, you give to me,
Id like to know what you learned.
The sky is blue and so is the sea.
What is the color, when black is burned?
What is the color?
You are a man, you understand.
You pick me up and you lay me down again.
You make the rules, you say whats fair,
Its lots of fun to have you there.
God gave to you, now, you give to me,
Id like to know what you learned.
The sky is blue and so is the sea.
What is the color, when black is burned?
What is the color?
I am a child, Ill last a while.
You cant conceive of the pleasure in my smile.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pantomime – Red Skelton and His Cat
The old man comes cautiously down
The stairs to the kitchen.
He takes the last step
That isn't there -
A bone shuddering stop.
Pausing, he searches the dark room
For the dangling light cord,
And moves toward
The center of the room -
Carefully.
It's unfortunate as the cat
Is discovered sitting in the middle of the floor.
As the old man steps on its tail,
It howls it great pain -
Startling the old man.
Finally, after groping the empty air,
He finds the cord.
Pulling it; he is
Blinded by the sudden light -
Causing him to cover his eyes.
Looking about the room.
He sees, in the corner,
The offended cat.
He ask for forgiveness -
Stoops to pet and caress.
He stands, with apparent pain,
Moves to the kitchen counter,
Sees a number of cans,
That must be cat food –
And selects one.
He shows the can to the cat;
Returns to the counter and
Taking a hand-cranked opener
He begins -
To open it with great difficulty.
Finally opened,
He places the lid on the counter,
Raises the can to his nose,
Smiles appreciately, bends and -
Offers the cat a smell.
Bracing his back he stands.
Takes a spoon,
From the counter,
And bends over the cat's dish. -
Placing a portion in the dish.
Pushing the cat away,
He adds a second helping.
Then, thinking he has
added too much, -
He spoons a bit back into the can.
Standing again with difficulty,
He straightens his back,
And once more sniffs the can.
Raises the spoon -
And takes a small bite.
Liking what he finds,
He turns his back to the cat,
And eats
All that remains -
Then wipes his mouth on his sleeve.
Guiltily he looks back at the cat,
Seeing there is liquid in the can,
He once again bends low
Over the cat and its dish -
And pours the remaining liquid into the cat's dish.
He stands,
Places a hand to his aching back,
Wipes his mouth on his sleeve,
Places the spoon and can on the counter -
And steps to the center of the room.
He pulls the light cord;
The room is dark.
From the darkness
You hear, -
'Good night and God Bless.'
poem by Sidi J. Mahtrow
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War of Terror
They do not belong to the earth
Hold them through their backs
Rape their women
Crush their children
With iron hand
With heavy boots
With bombs and planes
They do not know civil liberties
Join hands
In brotherhood
In one creed
Protect the rich
Cross and crescent
In one hand
Horns of the helmets
In another
Prepare your swords
For the slaughter
Carbon your faces
In black
Perpetuate your rule of terror
Indefinitely
You have stolen their freedom
And the day
When the flood of tears and blood
Shall raise them up
To hold you on your neck
But
Kill them rob them
They do not belong to the earth
10/7/2009
For the innocent victims of war on terror
poem by Sadiqullah Khan
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Colors
There was a black man
There was a blue man
They hated each other
For the color of the skin
They both believed the other
To be the offspring of some great sin...
One dark day
They got into a helluva fight
Each believing to be in the right
They beat upon each other
Through and through
They beat each other black and blue,
Until finally
They both did come to see
How much alike
They'd come to be.
Now there is a black man
There is a blue man
Together they stand
Once divided by the color of the skin
Never more shall they
Be blinded that way again...
Black or white
Yellow or red
The color of the skin
Is truly all inside the head,
And the colors in the head
Come out in the words
That are said,
And the words
That are said
Can leave the heart so alive,
Or, utterly dead.
It's a choice to make:
Either for the image of the soul
Or, for the color of the skins sake;
The darkness of night
Or, the beauty from
The colors of the
Light.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Umbilical
Chiming bells, uproaring thunder-like voices, merry making, upon the promulgation of a child
Cries emanates, just as the umbilical cord becomes set for cut
The daunts & wearies of the child opens in sheer despairity
Seeming 'a punishment' at birth
Oops! Just flustery scenes advertently nothing can be done
An anti-thesis like an armoury clad then render at the time due making the sky deeply frightened but yet not taken aback
An enticement, never can it be ignored, not even on the 'kerstmis' in a year of plenty
Umbilical cord it hovers, armistic it acts as the child gasp for breath
A separation & passage which broils unto humanity, the adventures ahead and the apportioned destinies.
But knowingly, even after the darkest of unending nights, lies a certainty of a brighter sky amid unwavering faith & unabated hopes tomorrow
#Certainly umbilical
poem by Prince Kenny Osei
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The White Heat
Dare you see a Soul at the White Heat?
Then crouch within the door --
Red -- is the Fire's common tint --
But when the vivid Ore
Has vanquished Flame's conditions,
It quivers from the Forge
Without a color, but the light
Of unanointed Blaze.
Least Village has its Blacksmith
Whose Anvil's even ring
Stands symbol for the finer Forge
That soundless tugs -- within --
Re[f]ining these impatient Ores
With Hammer, and with Blaze
Untile the Designated Light
Repudiate the Forge
poem by Emily Dickinson
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The color of my life
I remember…
Her pouty red lips, when she wouldn’t get her way
The blush in her cheeks when her hand grazed mine
The freshly picked hibiscus that clung in her hair
And the mosquito bite that she wouldn’t stop scratching
The red and white striped hat
Atop the cat of the book we used to read
The little red shoes she wore for Halloween
And the six little flames flickering on her birthday cake
The color of my young fingertips
When she squeezed my hand in hers
As the spots of blood leaked from her fallen knee
Flushing her tear stricken cheeks red
The color of the first Valentine card I gave to her
And the color of the last rose, I almost gave to her
The color of the burning sky
As we both silently waited for our parents to come
The bright red brake lights of her parent’s car
Leaving the school and me behind
The color of the balloon that slipped out of her hand
And floated out into the eternal blue sky
I remember… the red in my life
poem by Jeffrey Lee
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Cups
Bubble girl you feel like a movie
Bubble blow a bit faster
Liquid
Bubble fish take fast now
Faster
Bubble fast slow down
The slope
Blue blue
Blue blue
Little girl
You chew girl lie on to you?
Bubble blow
Bit faster
Bit faster christian
Bubble fast slow down
Big slow ?
A bit faster
Everythings good
Dreams of me
To liquid
Dream salty?
Dream of something quick
Deep slice to sometime into my hand
False alarm
Fools imagine into slow black
Slow slow fence
Sneak up light across the horizon
Sneak up last night in moonlight
Party grasses over the ocean
I love to write
Bubble blow you comeback
You slow down
Another blow
Big faster
Big faster
Bubble fish take fast now
Faster
{ba ding ba ding and ba ding}
Drip slowdown
song performed by by Underworld
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dare you see a Soul at the White Heat?
365
Dare you see a Soul at the White Heat?
Then crouch within the door—
Red—is the Fire's common tint—
But when the vivid Ore
Has vanquished Flame's conditions,
It quivers from the Forge
Without a color, but the light
Of unanointed Blaze.
Least Village has its Blacksmith
Whose Anvil's even ring
Stands symbol for the finer Forge
That soundless tugs—within—
Refining these impatient Ores
With Hammer, and with Blaze
Until the Designated Light
Repudiate the Forge—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Patch Of Blue
Clouds and fog in my sight,
Waiting for the sun.
Hope to see a patch of blue
Making the scene all right.
The troublesome thing that bothers me
is knowing the sun is there.
It’s behind the clouds and fog I see
And a glimpse beyond compare
is a tiny patch of blue
suspended in mid air.
Let that patch of blue become
larger in its size.
Allow it to soothe my eyes.
I need its color to intensify
on every brand new day.
I need it to burn the grayness
and send it on its way.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Insurrection
insurrection...
or just the pot boiling over,
the plant breaking through the gound,
the leaf bursting from the bud,
the wind breaking down the door.
light breaking through the darkness,
the body breaking free of bonds.
the spirit breaking from the body,
the truth breaking from the silence.
hope breaking from despair,
caring breaking from the calloused....
the individual breaking from the crowd.
the many breaking from the few,
the man breaking from enslavement.
the pot boiling over...
be careful!
you'll burn your hand!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Color Blue
the color blue is known to do
something strange to you
this time when i say you it is truly the reader
not the one who i love
not the one pure like a dove
the color blue
seems strange in nature just like you
it stimulates dreams without asking anything in return
nor do most dreams it propagates burn
no the color blue is serene
nice and soft like a moisturizing cream
but there is another color
that is not proved by psychology to stimulate dreams
i call it the color black
though the dreams are nightmares they are grouped in the same sack
with dreams akin like brother though more like an evil twin
the color black seems to always win
by bringing out your nightmares and pain
and sometimes your feelings begin to wain
that gives way to apathy
which leads to your becoming a tapestry, a tapestry
of death for this gives way to being dead
because black is everywhere, in every night
anytime there is no light
black is in you and its in me, how is we aren't dead?
in the end the color black has now become like lead
like a poison true nature forgotten we as humans simply say
black symbolizes death for that is the only way
that we console ourselves
poem by David Knox
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Ive Been High
Have you seen?
Have not, will travel.
Have I missed the big reveal?
Do my eyes
Do my eyes seem empty?
Ive forgotten how this feels.
Ive been high
Ive climbed so high
But life sometimes
It washes over me.
Have you been?
Have done, will travel.
I fell down on me knees.
Was I wrong?
I dont know, dont answer.
I just needed to believe.
Ive been high
Ive climbed so high
But life sometimes
It washes over me.
So
I dive into a pool so cool and deep that if I sink i
Sink
And when I swim I fly so high
What I want
What I really want is
Just to live my life on high.
And I know
I know you want the same
I can see it in your eyes.
Ive been high
Ive climbed so high
But life sometimes
It washes over me.
Washes over me
Close my eyes so I can see
Make my make-believe believe
In me.
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Using adult stem cells drawn from bone marrow and umbilical cord blood system cells, scientists have discovered new treatments for scores of diseases and conditions such as Parkinson's disease, juvenile diabetes, and spinal cord injuries.
quote by Nathan Deal
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Greatest Crime
The greatest crime is
Silence
The Acquiescence
In Coexistence
Of Palaces and Pavements.
What punishment the crime entails?
Earth looked from Moon
Be Red, Black Red, Thick Red, Blood Red.
poem by Vibhash Sureka
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A Mixed Breed
I have the blood of a white man,
My papa's blood that is.
I have the blood of a black woman,
My mama's blood that is.
And so my blood is a mixture
Of blood that's hers and his.
It courses through my veins each day
With its color imbed.
And every time I have cut myself
The color of it's red.
Can't tell which is my papa's
Or mama's that I see?
Only thing I really see
Is it doesn't matter to me.
I've been loved by black and white.
I've been hated too.
Sometimes at night while I'm in bed
I wonder when I'm through
Will I be judged by the color of my skin
Which is neither black nor white?
Or the blood that gave to me my life
as I tried to do everything right?
poem by Edwina Reizer
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I am a rose
What color am I? Am I red, pink, white, oh wait I am black...
Black is the color of many dark secret places and or ideas, which we may never want to enter...
So why do I feel like I am a black rose? Do I have secrets hidden so deep that no one can even sense them?
I wish I were a red and or a white rose. Those two colors can mean many of things but what you find the most is that of marriage...
Red is the color of love and white is the color in which we use mostly for a wedding. I want my darkness to turn to light. With my color of a rose may the light bring out a marriage...
I am a rose of many colors which one are you? ? ?
poem by Kristen Palmitier
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