Dark Moonlight
Watching from pin hole
lamps of baked clay.
Every thorn was in my flesh.
I was losing my voice
in crowd of maniacs.
Dragonflies climbing on worn leather.
Through cracked sunroof –
skull splinters into million heirlooms.
Fever climbs the feudals.
Why were you impatient with me?
I was narrating a shocking tale.
Frogs had acquired the land.
Plot was thickening every day.
Take me if you can, in the heavy shower
of meteorites in dark moonlight.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
To a Pair of Blucher Boots
OLD acquaintance unforgotten,
Though you may be “ugly brutes”—
Though your leather’s cracked and rotten,
Worn-out pair of Blucher boots.
’Tis the richer man before you,
Dearer leathers grace his feet;
’Twas the better man that wore you
In the tramps through dust and heat!
Oft rebuffed by “super’s” snarling,
When I asked him for a “show”,
On that long tramp to the Darling
In the days of long ago;
Tell me, if you know it, whether,
As I sadly tramped away,
Bore I heavy on your leather,
Worn-out pair of Bluchers, say?
Though your leather’s cracked and rotten,
Though you may be ugly brutes,
I’ll preserve you unforgotten,
Worn-out pair of Blucher boots!
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Climbing Up The Walls (Zero 7 Mix)
I am the key to the lock in your house
that keeps your toys in the basement,
and if you get too far inside
you'll only see my reflection.
See her face when she sleeps tonight,
I am the pick in the ice,
do not cry out or hit the alarm,
we are we're friends till we die.
And either way you turn I'll be there,
open up your skull, I'll be there
climbing up the walls.
It's always best when the light is off,
it's always better on the outside,
in the crack of your wanting smile,
fifteen blows to the skull.
So tuck the kids in safe tonight,
and shut the eyes in the cupboard.
do not cry out or hit the alarm,
you'll get the loneliest feeling
that either way you turn I'll be there,
open up your skull, I'll be there
climbing up the walls.
Climbing up the walls.
Climbing up the walls
song performed by by Radiohead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
This Maniacs In Love With You
I used to be so in control
But reality is losing its hold
Now I dont know where to begin
Just look at the state that Im in
My mind is in total decay
Im coming to take you away
Theres nothing more that I can
Do
This maniacs in love with you
Your biggest fear has just come
True
This maniacs in love with you
This maniacs in love with you
This maniac, this maniac
My heart has been strapped in a
Straight jacket love
The therapy boys say it fits like a
Glove
Im crossing the line in my brain
The line between pleasure and
Pain
It takes all Ive got to survive
This madness will eat me alive
Theres nothing more that I can
Do
This maniacs in love with you
Your biggest fear has just come
True
This maniacs in love with you
Theres nothing more that I can
Do
This maniacs in love with you
Im all locked up inside of you
This maniac, this maniac
I just dont know where to begin
Just look at the state that Im in
My mind is total decay
Im coming to take you away
Theres nothing more that you can
Do
This maniacs in love with you
Your biggest fear has just come
True
This maniacs in love with you
Theres nothing more that you can
Do
This maniacs in love with you
Your biggest fear has just come
True
This maniac, this maniac
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Give The Radio Back
Hey teacher, what are you trying to do?
I'm getting tired of livin' in this zoo
You slap me in the face and you knock me down
You beat my head right in to the ground
I've never felt this way before
I can't take it no more
So give the radio back
Yeah, give the radio back
Give the radio back to the maniacs
Well, there's a party going on outside
All my friends got ya terrified
Don't call no cops or the state police
Don't break up this blown out symphony
You think I'm wasting all my precious time
You say my music oughta be a crime
Well, give the radio back
Give the radio back
Yeah, give the radio back to the maniacs
To the maniacs
I never ever felt this way before
Ain't gonna take it no more
Yeah, give the radio
Give the radio back
Give the radio back to the maniacs
To the maniacs
Yeah, give the radio to the maniacs
Give the radio to the maniacs
Give it, give it, give the radio
To the maniacs
The little maniacs, you're all maniacs
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Clay Woman
Clay woman, baked too long
Stone cold, deep red, stand
Clay woman, heat too high,
Brittle with the remnant demand
Too long in the kiln
Not set at bake but sear
Scorched beauty remains,
But not a breath be near
Can't breathe too hard,
Clay woman may turn to dust
Can't look too long
For clay woman may combust,
And above all else,
Do not touch her heart,
Her back will break,
Her wounds will smart,
Clay woman, baked too long
All hope and joy abstains,
Clay woman, heat too high
Can my tears salvage my remains?
poem by Eowyn Aurora
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sent She Did A Shower Of Song Kisses
behold a shower of meteorites I bathe in light
a shower of kisses sent helps pass velvet night
overhead heavens streak in shower blaze glory
messages love sent written in our creation story
paradise still beckons with wonders souls aspire to
lovers feel universal song echo Adam Eve once knew
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Watcher on the Tower
I
The Voice of a Man
WHAT of the Night, O Watcher?
The Voice of a Woman
Yea, what of it?
The Watcher
A star has risen; and a wind blows strong.
Voice of the Man
The Night is dark.
The Watcher
But God is there above it.
Voice of the Woman
The Night is dark; the Night is dark and long.
II
Voice of the Man
What of the Night, O Watcher?
Voice of the Woman
Night of sorrow!
The Watcher
Out of the East there comes a sound, like song.
Voice of the Man
The Night is dark.
The Watcher
Have courage! There’s To-morrow!
Voice of the Woman
The Night is dark; the Night is dark and long.
III
Voice of the Man
What of the Night, O Watcher?
Voice of the Woman
Is it other?
The Watcher
I see a gleam; a thorn of light; a thong.
Voice of the Man
The Night is dark.
The Watcher
The Morning comes, my Brother.
Voice of the Woman
The Night is dark; the Night is dark and long.
IV
Voice of the Man
What now, what now, O Watcher?
The Watcher
Red as slaughter
The Darkness dies. The Light comes swift and strong.
Voice of the Man
The Night was long.—What sayest thou, my Daughter?
Voice of the Woman
The Night was dark; the Night was dark and long.
poem by Madison Julius Cawein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Flesh Wound
We flew over miles of ocean--be prepared.
I don't have the faintest notion who'll be there.
You underestimated; nobody sympathized.
I think you'll soon feel better once we get inside.
I see the door is open -- Why don't we walk right in?
Let's put our party hats on and let the fun begin!
We should have called and said that we were on our way;
Who would have ever guessed that you'd be so unreachable?
Just another flesh wound--another thorn in my side
Just another flesh wound--another wonder-cure that you tried
Just another flesh wound--another scratch on your hide
Just another flesh wound--another irritation you abide
You know the rumour's going that he was synthesized.
And if we had to dress, I wouldn't be surprised.
I say -- you're so outrageous -- you'll go to number one!
They'll have us both arrested for having too much fun.
Just another flesh wound--another scratch on your hide.
Just another flesh wound--another thorn in your side.
Just another flesh wound--another bruise on your pride.
Just another flesh wound--another paranoia that you hide.
And when she held her nose, she took an underdose.
It was nice to see her completely comatose.
You go first, you're completely debonair;
Let's go dutch -- it's only fair.
Just another flesh wound--another thorn in your side.
Just another flesh wound--a minor injury you dignified.
Just another flesh wound--another unsuccessful suicide.
Just another flesh wound--another curse that you ride.
song performed by by Robert Palmer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Peace
I feel sorry for each new soul
that falls into a big black hole.
When they were born they knew they were one
with all of life under the sun.
But the hole of ignorance opened wide
and the soul that they were fell inside.
Now climbing out is a challenge for some.
For the systam has got them and made them numb.
Relatively few will reach for that sun
and figure out what has been done,
That the big black hole was never there.
It was only a story to give them a scare.
Can you change the system? Probably not,
but you can change your perception and change the plot.
Each one is a mystery and quite unique.
Listen to yourself, not to those who speak
words that will send you back to the hole.
For these are words that are not of the soul.
I feel happy for each and everyone
who understands love, for they have won
peace.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sea Turtle III
Into the azure drink beside me and that was that.
I guess I should consider myself lucky:
I could have been soup, my shell slung on a wall
Sporting a tape-patched bullet hole. Ah, well.
And so I go
Like the sea-going thing,
Like the turtle I am, memory-bereft,
A dark sun, a discus,
Scuttling over the sea's bottom,
Basking in the moonlight,
Weeping, kvetching-out heaps of ping-pong eggs;
And-let this shock your dichotomies,
I really don't care what becomes of them-
I wish them well,
But I've done my bit. Let heaven manage it.
I only long to be
Wrapped once more in the arms of the sea,
Dissolved, all breeze-born memory
Acquired on land, that hiss and burn and kill,
And tell you where to go
Next. The sea that loves me.
(you can hold on to things too long)
Neither purposeful nor purposeless,
The sea is for me, it is, the sea's for me,
For the sea is me, it be, the sea is me.
poem by Morgan Michaels
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Watching Me Watching You
I sit by the cutting on the beaconsfield line.
Hes watching me watching the trains go by.
And they move so fast --- boy, they really fly.
Hes still watching me watching you watching the
Trains go by.
And the way he stares --- feel like locking my door
And pulling my phone from the wall.
His eyes, like lights from a laser, burn
Making my hair stand --- making the goose-bumps crawl.
Hes watching me watching you watching him
Watching me
Im watching you watching him watching me
Watching stares.
At the cocktail party with a bucks fizz in my hand
I feel him watching me watching the girls go by.
And they move so smooth without even trying.
Hes still watching me watching you watching the
Trains go by.
And the crowd thins and he moves up close but he doesnt speak.
I have to look the other way.
But curiosity gets the better part of me and I peek:
Got two drinks in his hand --- see his lips move ---
What the hells he trying to say.
Hes watching me watching you watching him
Watching me.
Im watching you watching him watching me
Watching stares.
Hes watching me watching you watching him
Watching me.
Hes watching me watching you watching
The trains go by.
Hes watching me watching you watching him
Watching me.
Hes watching me watching you watching him watching me.
Hes watching me watching you watching him watching me watching him watching.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Crescent Moon
The moon was rising with the towering mist,
The nights were longer with this night;
The moonlight beamed on the residents of a pyramid,
Shaped by the middle of the crowd, safety was important.
This crescent showed a shining light and full moons made
Me happy, like the wolves and werewolves;
A great gap created a hole as well for the forthcoming lot,
Hearing the signal was a hole and a hole.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Listen...
There is a knocking in the skull,
An endless silent shout
Of something beating on a wall,
And crying, “Let me out!”
That solitary prisoner
Will never hear reply.
No comrade in eternity
Can hear the frantic cry.
No heart can share the terror
That haunts his monstrous dark.
The light that filters through the chinks
No other eye can mark.
When flesh is linked with eager flesh,
And words run warm and full,
I think that he is loneliest then,
The captive in the skull.
Caught in a mesh of living veins,
In cell of padded bone,
He loneliest is when he pretends
That he is not alone.
We’d free the incarcerate race of man
That such a doom endures
Could only you unlock my skull,
Or I creep into yours.
poem by Ogden Nash
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dragonflies
Dragonflies
why so busy,
why so many?
Is there anyone of you
who can tell your stories?
Dragonflies
why so busy,
why so many?
are you working,
or just playing?
Dragonflies
why so busy,
why so many?
why don't you come
and rest beside me.
Dragonflies
why so busy,
why so many?
Is there anyone of you
who wants to hear my story?
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lincoln Monument: Washington
Let's go see Old Abe
Sitting in the marble and the moonlight,
Sitting lonely in the marble and the moonlight,
Quiet for ten thousand centuries, old Abe.
Quiet for a million, million years.
Quiet-
And yet a voice forever
Against the
Timeless walls
Of time-
Old Abe.
poem by Langston Hughes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Nineteen
This is my voice,
Sad, prolonged, fever pitched,
With some intermittent turbulence
In between a concentrated discourse
But
Still in a slow, smooth, sailing like
A canoe on a very clear silent running river
And
Some rapids, and rocks somewhere, may distort,
This voice
Of mine,
Or
At the edge for which a waterfall rages,
This
Voice
Of
Mine,
May sound like a violent fall of a hundred heavy waters,
Not a drip, but a hundred heavy, heavy falling waters,
As though the whole word is falling down
On your
Shoulder,
This is my voice, sad, on a prolonged agony,
But somehow, when tickled may move into
A mystery, not discounting the possibility of
An ecstasy,
A fantasy,
And you, my love, my beautiful reader, may hear this voice
Speaking to you in a hush of silence,
This is my voice; hear it for what it is, that is all that I ask of you,
I am myself speaking. I am real, this voice of mine.
Listen to me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I will be speaking to you in my own voice
This is my voice,
Sad, prolonged, fever pitched,
With some intermittent turbulence
In between a concentrated discourse
But
Still in a slow, smooth, sailing like
A canoe on a very clear silent running river
And
Some rapids, and rocks somewhere, may distort,
This voice
Of mine,
Or
At the edge for which a waterfall rages,
This
Voice
Of
Mine,
May sound like a violent fall of a hundred heavy waters,
Not a drip, but a hundred heavy, heavy falling waters,
As though the whole word is falling down
On your
Shoulder,
This is my voice, sad, on a prolonged agony,
But somehow, when tickled may move into
A mystery, not discounting the possibility of
An ecstasy,
A fantasy,
And you, my love, my beautiful reader, may hear this voice
Speaking to you in a hush of silence,
This is my voice; hear it for what it is, that is all that I ask of you,
I am myself speaking. I am real, this voice of mine.
Listen to me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
This Is My Voice
This is my voice,
Sad, prolonged, fever pitched,
With some intermittent turbulence
In between a concentrated discourse
But
Still in a slow, smooth, sailing like
A canoe on a very clear silent running river
And
Some rapids, and rocks somewhere, may distort,
This voice
Of mine,
Or
At the edge for which a waterfall rages,
This
Voice
Of
Mine,
May sound like a violent fall of a hundred heavy waters,
Not a drip, but a hundred heavy, heavy falling waters,
As though the whole word is falling down
On your
Shoulder,
This is my voice, sad, on a prolonged agony,
But somehow, when tickled may move into
A mystery, not discounting the possibility of
An ecstasy,
A fantasy,
And you, my love, my beautiful reader, may hear this voice
Speaking to you in a hush of silence,
This is my voice; hear it for what it is, that is all that I ask of you,
I am myself speaking. I am real, this voice of mine.
Listen to me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Strength in weakness
Paul’s thorn in the flesh
When I am weak,
Then I am strong
Strength in weakness
A typical Pauline sophism?
A typical Pauline syllogism?
A typical Pauline casuistry?
A typical Pauline homily.
Paul’s thorn in the flesh
When I am weak,
Then I am strong
Strength in weakness
Paul was disabled, you see
Was he blind? You ask
Was he lame? You ask
Was it a speech impediment?
Paul’s thorn in the flesh
When I am weak,
Then I am strong
Strength in weakness
Oh! He was strong in spirit
But weak in appearance
He can’t be our leader, they said
He’s an embarrassment
Paul’s thorn in the flesh
When I am weak,
Then I am strong
Strength in weakness
Paul said: “Yes, I am weak
But God’s strength is made perfect
In my weakness not in my strength
So up the weak and down the strong! (my words!)
Paul’s thorn in the flesh
When I am weak,
Then I am strong
Strength in weakness
We are all weak in some way
Weak in our words
Weak in our walk
Weak in our talk
Paul’s thorn in the flesh
When I am weak,
Then I am strong
Strength in weakness
But for God, weak means strong
Kingdom values, Kingdom virtues
Jesus’ values, Jesus’ virtues
My values? my virtues?
Paul’s thorn in the flesh
When I am weak,
Then I am strong
Strength in weakness
So the lamb not the lion
The humble not the haughty
The lowly not the lofty
The penitent not the proud.
Paul’s thorn in the flesh
When I am weak,
Then I am strong
Strength in weakness
Let’s value then the weak
And remember they are strong.
If I am proud, then I am wrong
If I am conceited, then I am wrong
Paul’s thorn in the flesh
When I am weak,
Then I am strong
Strength in weakness
Let’s fill the Church then with the weak
Push in the wheelchairs
Roll in the scooters
Help the handicapped walk in.
Paul’s thorn in the flesh
When I am weak,
Then I am strong
Strength in weakness
“At even, ere the sun was set
The sick oh Lord, around thee lay
Oh, in what divers pains they met
Oh with what joy they went away
And none oh Lord, have perfect rest
For none are wholly free from sin;
For they who fain would serve thee best
Are conscious most of sin within.
Thy touch has still its ancient power
No word from thee can fruitless fall
Hear in this solemn hour we pray
And in thy mercy heal us all.”
Paul’s thorn in the flesh
For when I am weak,
Then I am strong
Strength in weakness.
poem by James Hart
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Too Suggestible (Revised)
Time to escape ‘A Thousand Ways to Die’
fast becoming one of those nasty to all
and sundry jerks who died as a result
of their own malicious vindictiveness
Thinking ‘there she goes, law-breaker
posing normality, fraudster underneath,
happy with unethical tricks until she fell,
fracturing her skull into a million pieces’
– and –
‘Here she comes, woman who thought
living in her mind was good enough, just
fooling herself, no life in reality at all’ –
I shudder because of these thoughts
Cannot retrieve my happy inner world;
time to stop watching unloving people
hurting one-another and thus meeting
their doom in such shocking ways
Becoming a character in the show –
so gullible to be sucked in, hating
who I am!
poem by Margaret Alice Second
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!