Cracking The Code
Blue poppies were poised
to meet the regret of thighs,
mother of sins.
No flesh now covers the eyes.
A candle burns a green
thumb. A silver bowl breaks,
spilling the milk of nudes. Liars will tell
the story of honour killing.
We were tired of listening
to ravens taking a flight.
No one had seen the corpse.
Only black bones will tell the truth.
Have you seen the holocaust?
It was inside my pen! my write!
poem by Satish Verma
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Related quotes
Light breaks where no sun shines
Light breaks where no sun shines;
Where no sea runs, the waters of the heart
Push in their tides;
And, broken ghosts with glowworms in their heads,
The things of light
File through the flesh where no flesh decks the bones.
A candle in the thighs
Warms youth and seed and burns the seeds of age;
Where no seed stirs,
The fruit of man unwrinkles in the stars,
Bright as a fig;
Where no wax is, the candle shows its hairs.
Dawn breaks behind the eyes;
From poles of skull and toe the windy blood
Slides like a sea;
Nor fenced, nor staked, the gushers of the sky
Spout to the rod
Divining in a smile the oil of tears.
Night in the sockets rounds,
Like some pitch moon, the limit of the globes;
Day lights the bone;
Where no cold is, the skinning gales unpin
The winter's robes;
The film of spring is hanging from the lids.
Light breaks on secret lots,
On tips of thought where thoughts smell in the rain;
When logics die,
The secret of the soil grows through the eye,
And blood jumps in the sun;
Above the waste allotments the dawn halts.
poem by Dylan Thomas
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One Saint Walked Over The Ridge
Death will not listen;
still, the candle burns,
in blue dark
and sets free the sun.
Will you hold me tight
when I shed my identity?
I was going to start a silent prayer
for this earth.
I forget, that I always remember
the green pain
which lived in the bones of winter
when dawn was breaking.
Night settles
on secret thighs of shame.
I still smell the scent of blood
flowing from the lids.
poem by Satish Verma
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Red Candle
Red candle burns romantic in the night
Lovers hide from the barren torn world
Wrapped in symbols of hope and future
World war seems far from the moonlit sea
Passionate red roses for sweet lovers
Night covers time with universal desire
Goya painted ominous murals of truth
This red candle burns like rivers of blood
Christmas seems so sad for a soldier
Will a nuclear bomb blow out this red candle?
Existential sex like Ann Frank's last birthday
Pound your drums and fight your causes
The horrible crows fly in Van Gogh's mind
Hiroshima burns with a fire from hell
Tonight the red candle is for silk and lace
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Lull
time is a lullaby
the being inside a being
is like a baby inside a cradle
of the arms of a mother
inside is inside and further is another further
somehow when farther goes farther
there is more to become
rather than find an exit and then enter
another door and close it and live there
and then bone after bone
you take away what is left of
the self after the flesh is consumed
by another hungry flesh.
there is a lull in boredom
there is a escape that longs for
another greater escape.
i know you're tired listening to this
but does it really matter?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Velvet Green
Walking on velvet green. scots pine growing.
Isnt it rare to be taking the air, singing.
Walking on velvet green.
Walking on velvet green. distant cows lowing.
Never a care: with your legs in the air, loving.
Walking on velvet green.
Wont you have my company, yes, take it in your hands.
Go down on velvet green, with a country man.
Whos a young girls fancy and an old maids dream.
Tell your mother that you walked all night on velvet green.
One dusky half-hours ride up to the north.
There lies your reputation and all that youre worth.
Where the scent of wild roses turns the milk to cream.
Tell your mother that you walked all night on velvet green.
And the long grass blows in the evening cool.
And augusts rare delight may be aprils fool.
But think not of that, my love,
Im tight against the seam.
And Im growing up to meet you down on velvet green.
Now I may tell you that its love and not just lust.
And if we live the lie, lets lie in trust.
On golden daffodils, to catch the silver stream
That washes out the wild oat seed on velvet green.
Well dream as lovers under the stars ---
Of civilizations raging afar.
And the ragged dawn breaks on your battle scars.
As you walk home cold and alone upon velvet green.
Walking on velvet green. scots pine growing.
Isnt it rare to be taking the air, singing.
Walking on velvet green.
Walking on velvet green. distant cows lowing.
Never a care: with your legs in the air, loving.
Walking on velvet green.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Green Sky
One time, I asked the shooting stars
So that they swam in the green sky
So that no one can contaminated them
Like what just happened in the blue sky
That cotton cloud was taste so sweet
When they flew in the green sky
When birds still can ate them
Like when that didn't happen in the blue sky
I saw my reflection on the river flow
So beautiful when the green sky is behind me
So bright the reflection is
Like used in the blue sky
I don't know when we would meet
It may be never
But I want to try to see you
I don't want they regret what they have done
Because they never have meet you, green sky
poem by Renaisan Esaeliem
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ET Came To Breakfast (Fun Poem 10)
My breakfast was going snap, crackle and pop,
when suddenly in the chair opposite something went plop.
I looked across the table and was astonished to see,
a little green man looking at me.
I blinked a couple of times,
even pinched myself to make sure it was real.
He was, you can believe,
and my breakfast he was trying to steal.
We pulled at the bowl,
no one getting the upper hand,
and then he stuck his finger in the bowl,
and sucked out the blinking lot,
milk and my snap, crackle and pop.
The moral of this story.
If a little green man comes to breakfast,
Get an extra bowl.
28 April 2007
poem by David Harris
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Vagabond Of The Western World
I could tell you the story of a vagabond
A playboy of the western world
One day by chance he came upon
A fair young maid, a country girl
He told her that he loved her
And he took all of her silver
He told her that he needed her too
He said hey baby, you got eyes of blue
But he was a vagabond
Blue eyes, oh baby blue, oh blue eyes
The kind of eyes that say I do eyes
Oh baby blue, oh blue eyes
Oh baby blue, oh blue eyes
He roamed around the cities
Searching for his fortune and fame
No lady ever got to know his name
Shame, but that was his game
Gave a girl a baby boy
He said this child is my pride and joy
Im busy running wild and free
Make sure he grows up like me
And Im a vagabond
Blue eyes, oh baby blue, oh blue eyes
The kind of eyes that say I do eyes
Oh baby blue, oh blue eyes
Oh baby blue, oh blue eyes
Oh I could tell you a story of a vagabond
He was a playboy of the western world
He wore an earring in his left ear
You see his father he was a gypsy
You just might meet him upon the highway
Pretty fine dancer too
But hes leave you blue, hed leave
Hed leave you woman
song performed by by Thin Lizzy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Looking Back
the form was presentable
i look at the eyes again and
tell you, ah, those eyes were
my father's eyes,
and my father was so handsome,
until, time used him, there were
lies, and it infested his body
until he got so weak and
then he died in all
despair possible,
i look back and find the reasons
for betrayal,
they were beautiful reasons
and then i understand
those sad eyes, those tantrums,
the dead dog
the fish surrounding its rotten flesh
feeding upon it
until it sinks as pieces of bones
the foul smell
finally buried in the water
the white ghost floats in the river
and always in fidelity
it sings
there was no regret for the
beautiful reason
there was only Eros,
the warmth in the flesh that entered
in the thighs,
and the pleasures that
no one can ever forget.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Song That Never Ends!
tired of body,
tired of soul,
so much to do,
so much left undone...
the cup of life spilling over,
the latch on the door locked.
the taste of moonlight,
and long green grass....
paper stacked on paper,
the candle nearly burnt down.
the smell of love, the feel of the cliff,
and the song that never ends!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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A Transformation Of A Pornographic Perspective....
i am watching
nudes,
i feel the heat
that is normal
perhaps
too many times
i am watching nudes
sort of an addiction
on this fertile
imagination
and then
i learn to feel
the hardness and brittleness
of skulls and bones
soon i hear the dragging sounds
of iron chains
i am watching nudes
now in a different perspective
once young, and beautiful
soon
rotten, and ugly
and exactly pure and
true.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Bowl...
yes, this is a case
of a candle burning itself
on both sides
and below it
on two heads of fire
is a bowl full of
water
shaping what could
be the
truth
when the final shape
is taken
as usual
we go back
to that empty bowl
but less
the candle
the melted one
shedding off
lights
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Candle At The Edge Of The World
There is a candle at the edge of the world
that burns for all humanity.
In the daytime, it burns blue
to colour our skies when we wake.
At night, it is covered with a shade
and that is when darkness calls.
This candle at the edge of the world
is a constant reminder to us all
that if we venture too far too fast
we will eventually fall.
The candle burns within us
to show us the way each day
and if it ever fails
that is when our darkness calls.
It burns through our torment and strife,
our loves, happiness and failures too.
That candle at the edge of the world
is simply me and you.
poem by David Harris
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mind fillin blues...by Talile Ali
i'm pointing my fingers
everyones at fault
the world is against me
locked deep inside this vault
keeping me down
got me feeling sad and blue
with this messed up inside killing'
i got those mind-filling' blue's
completely delusional
totally insane
thinking things are happening
but it's all inside my brain
keeping me down
got me feeling sad and blue
with this messed up inside killing'
i got those mind-filling' blue's
believe that you love me
in your very own way
it doesn't really matter
because with me that's ok
keeping me down
got me feeling sad and blue
with this messed up inside killing'
i got those mind-filling' blue's
these messed up feelings
inside and blue
because i didn't have the sense
not to fall in love with you
keeping me down
got me feeling sad and blue
with this messed up inside killing'
i got those mind-filling' blue's
poem by Talile Ali
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Eyes
Eyes are blue
Eyes are green
Eyes are true
Eyes are mean
Eyes are bright
Give the light
Eyes are black
Like the night
Eyes are cold
Eyes are warm
Eyes are angry
Like a storm
Eyes are kind
Eyes are blind
Eyes are evil
Eyes of devil
Eyes are hungry
Eyes of walls
Eyes are empty
Eyes of dolls
Eyes are loving
Eyes are charming
Eyes are lying
Truth denying
Eyes are haughty
Eyes are naughty
Eyes are naïve
To all they believe
Eyes are strained
A fear remained
Eyes without hope
Ready for the rope
Eyes are vulnerable
Eyes that gamble
Eyes are sensitive
Eyes are attentive
Eyes are stubborn
Eyes are submissive
Eyes of a new born
Eyes are pensive
Loving eyes are true
Black, brown or blue
My eyes are green
A lot they have seen
©Larisa Rzhepishevska
January 11th,2011
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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The Poem As A Form Of Confession
when you read my poem
you begin to say that i must have been confessing
about a past and it is my subconscious who is always speaking
apparently you
notice the coming and going of a soul
to its favorite place
talking in the first person
sometimes you begin to piece the different forms
of metaphor: an image of mother, a naughty son
a flock of sheep, an old house by the river,
green hills, ripples of the sea,
leaves falling,
you connect chain to another chain
always bearing in mind
that one who tells the truth cannot forget
a story.
i used to believe in what i write
and chose those which i must believe in
but somehow i have changed: i now want to write for
those i do not believe anymore.
a black book, an access code,
a blue bird, a caterpillar, a cat on top of the
dog's head.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Inner Voices
traveling backward in dark to meet
my father I held the hands of my grandchild
in broken dawn of random spring to collect
the lost years of old house where we could not
meet and he sat feet resting on the thighs
in the valley of unwritten letters and thin
silence, you left before I knew my thumb
had your skin, climbed to despair I untied
the knot and had a fatal, pure wound, which
like a lantern still burns in the eyes of
my offsprings unabated, the seeds and salt
and bloodstained umbrella will cover the street
poem by Satish Verma
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Clown Up
Muscle torned -
I collide into straight through another bend -
What rips the edges of my heart -
Pain which burns my fire into flames -
With veins plastered into my flesh -
Smacked into the sky -
I bond to the cracks -
Bones leaking marrow -
My blue print to life -
My storm is trapped inside from, spoken to the wings, whichhe outside -
What narrows the arrow to a sparrow -
Black is black to a crow -
The forgotten blood of the army -
Which lost to the white in snow -
Do not climb; be the ladder -
So you will remember to go up, instead of down -
As blueberries pie in the face of a clown
poem by Unic Cjonr
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Eyes of Green Meet Eyes of Blue
Lonely mornings crawling by
Lonely nights where time won't fly
Lonely days with no hand held
A pounding heart that's never quelled
Crawling slowly back to you
Eyes of green meet eyes of blue
Sitting silent in a daze
A life alone, it never pays
All behind and nothing here
Hiding all the pain and fear
Crawling slowly back to you
Eyes of green meet eyes of blue
Troubled words meet nervous ears
Fighting through the hurt and tears
Finding peace back in your arms
Giving in to all your charms
Crawling slowly back to you
Eyes of green meet eyes of blue
Lazy mornings, all time lost
Melting back the cold and frost
Holding hands and holding hearts
Forgotten endings, brand new starts
Lying right here next to you
Eyes of green meet eyes of blue
The Magic Of The Green And Blues
The magic of the green and blues, a view
Turtle doves in flight in purple night, they flew
Tragic plight a fight, now imagine me its true
Green and blue, blue and green
No matter to you but to me
The blue is woe and envy is green
It has to be, this way it seems, to me
Did I fall, commit a crime or lie, no
But miss misery makes my eyes glow
Through the blues and greens
A future is foreseen, by my eyes but for me
I stand tall above you all and truth I see
The magic of the green and blues, a view
Turtle doves in flight in purple night, they flew
Tragic plight a fight, now imagine me its true
Green is me and blue miss misery
She the only one to have a hold of me,
Unhappy together but with clarity forever
poem by Daniel Richards
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