Expressionless
A silent war with oneself
devouring all the cells,
the gory remains of words
and grainy kisses of tears.
A curved hook in the mouth
to start a prayer for the freedom
from whispers of brand and labels:
liberation from the weight of testaments.
Bruised glints from the flesh dripping,
wriggle on serene rocks of resolution,
before the sin was discovered. A poem
was awarded to me for excitement.
An eye and a mirror, a gulch and a stone.
The smiles are fatal, the blood is pure.
Hot sun bakes the sand, nudges the
skull and a pal of gloom settles for eternity.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The First Poem
The first poem I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
The words I love you
written by this beauty's tongue
turned a heart rosy red from a somber blue
and made me burn for my heart was wrung.
The first poem I ever read
is the first poem I ever said.
On her poetic lips love words refined
and shaped a sonnet on her flesh defined
On those lips I read a poet's song
And knew it was there my lips belonged.
The first poem I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
I love you, I love you
What does it mean?
These words said, to start anew
something pure and something serene.
The first words I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
Those first words she whispered into my ear
And in my heart, her poem stood near
Those are the most beautiful words one ever said
I love you, I love you, will live till its dead.
The first poem I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
I read her lips, I love you, I love you..
now to sleep I go in love's sweet bed.
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Words of liberation for my nation
Chains of slavery are still over my people.
Notorious minds still over power innocent minds.
What can free the black child, what can free my nation?
I ask in pain and suffering in the dark jail cells,
What can free me from mental slavery?
How to know right from wrong?
How to think free and build a free society?
The solution is in the words of liberation, the words of wisdom.
I write and recite a revolution, my revolution my poetry.
I do n’t need praises or worship but only recognition and understanding of the people to words of liberation, understanding of poetry.
I stand before you to present poetry,
I stand before you to present the words of liberation to my nation.
Poetry that builds, poetry that destroys.
Poetry that destroyed the impious minds of colonists in Rhodesia.
I speak of poetry that built freedom in South Africa.
When I speak of poetry I mean the true meaning of words.
Words of wisdom,
Words of freedom,
Words of liberation,
Words to free my nation.
The words of liberation to my nation
Words of liberation to free my generation
Poetry-poetry-poetry-poetry-poetry.
poem by zimi Nakeni
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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
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Blood From A Stone
Well Ive been walkin
Down a one way dirty street
Tryin to find the answers
And Ive been hopin
For a chance to meet
The rat that spread the cancer
And the lies theyve been spinnin
And the smiles theyve been grinnin
There sure has been some sinnin
But nobodys winnin
When the walls start to crumblin
You feel like youre stumblin
And nobody wants you when youre down
They took the boy from the city
But they cant take the city from the
Boys lookin pretty
Now hes lookin like a pity
Cut the flesh down to the bone
But you cant get
You cant get blood from a stone
You cant get blood from a stone
Well Im a rollin
But my trains gone off the tracks
And my wheels are spinnin
And Im a walkin
Down a one way dirty street
But my hearts not sinkin
From the love theyve been buyin
And the blues theyve been cryin
Now the time keeps a flyin
But nobodys tryin
Cause the love of the money
Didnt turn out so sunny
When the wells dry
No one comes around
They took the boy from the city
But they cant take the city from the
Boys lookin pretty
Now hes lookin like a pity
Cut the flesh down to the bone
But you cant get
You cant get blood from a stone
You can try
But I still got the fight in my eyes
Suck it dry
Cause Ive had about enough of your lies
They took the boy from the city
But they cant take the city from the
Boys lookin pretty
Now hes lookin like a pity
Cut the flesh down to the bone
But you cant get blood from a stone
They took the boy from the city
But they cant take the city from the
Boys lookin pretty
Now hes lookin like a pity
Cut the flesh down to the bone
But you cant get
You cant get blood from a stone, no
You cant get blood from a stone
You cant get blood from a stone
You cant get blood from a stone
You cant get blood from a stone
You cant get blood from a stone
song performed by by Cinderella
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bloody Kisses
She kisses my bloody wrist
She wipes the tears from my eyes
She whispers It'll be fine, my love
Wait and see, I wont leave
She kisses my scars
She says she loves me
She loves the taste of my blood
She whispers you're sweet enough to eat
Bloody kisses are sweet
Bloody kisses are only for you and me
(5-15-05)
poem by Brandi Young
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Window Forever, Nailed Shut!
wetness,
fallen leaves,
decaying....
the blood of
women and children
dripping to the
naked earth....
the tears of
the forgotten,
falling
like burning knives
on hollowed faces...
the distorted dreams
of the dreamless,
damp, and heady,
steaming the hungry
shameless void...
the electric singing juices
of my sweet madness,
filling your mouth,
your devouring wetness....
dripping,
falling,
steaming,
like slow peels of thunder
to the bare floor....
the window forever,
nailed shut!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Featureless And White
This night of the long vigil
has betrayed my soul.
Columns of smoke arise
from the landscape of shrines.
There is no need now,
to sing the praise of oblique wars.
Truth has made
a big dent in my heart.
The tears of the bronze statue won’t stop,
they are mixed with blood.
Its pain for pain hurts the flesh.
Orphaned kids move in a circle,
their parched lips in silent prayer.
Remains of bread crumbs strewn on road.
The stench rises from the trash.
A face swims,
of our demolished culture.
Even the vultures are gone.
The dead and living start talking.
Tainted blood flows in dead veins.
Featureless & white.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Am amorous night
An amorous night with you on my side
Walking on the seashore hand in hand
Engraving our love in the sand
The footprint fades, the milky foam engrosses
Touches million souls, echoing the tale
Silent glances exchange, no word is uttered
But everything is said, everything is understood
An enthralling conversation that could create an epic
The tides etches the saga, in the rocks
Softening the rocks, it sheds tears of joy
The breeze plays a mellow tune
Silent whispers magically sing
Moon the silent spectator, admirably acknowledges
And in this ardent vista, two souls merge slowly
And slowly they becomes one
poem by Kavitha Krishnamurthy
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Buddy Bear
'Buddy Bears Feelings'
A soft cloth book
Is Bonnie's best plaything
By hook or by crook
If handed a rattle
Or teething ring toy
There's only dull interest
And simply no joy
But Buddy Bear brings
Everyday and each night
A look of excitement
And squeals of delight
The pages inside
On the bottom and top
When put in the mouth
Go snap crackle pop
On page three there's a mirror
We can see someone in
Who is that reflection?
It smiles back again!
Inside Buddy's car
There's a horn that goes toot
When mom presses it
We think it's a hoot
Oh, learning of things
In this world is such fun
Forget about sleep!
Play won't be outdone
Written by Sara Fielder © 2001
NOTE: This poem was written for my daughter Bonnie.
poem by Sara Fielder
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On Purpose
I see the blood dripping down my arm.
Red liquid in a running line
I smell the blood dripping down my arm.
Irony and salty
I hear the blood dripping down my arm.
Making splashes as drops hit the floor
I taste the blood dripping down my arm.
Mineraly and smooth
I feel the blood dripping down my arm.
A tickle covering immense pain
Because I cut myself
On purpose
poem by Kylee Bartz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stone, Mirror and Mist
Stone, mirror and mist;
All enrapture me.
I can’t resist
Time’s trinity.
As I try in the mirror
To change the stone,
Mist draws nearer
Till I can’t see on my own.
Then I turn my attention
To the mirror at hand;
Stone in mind, but not mention;
Mist shifting like sand.
I battle the mirror.
There can be only one.
When image is clearer
I’ll know I have won.
Only then will mist clear.
Stone will have no say.
A bygone will be fear
And I’ll be on my way.
poem by Gregory Huyette
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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All she wants to do is be free mirror
Imprints of bloody hands stain the glass as I look at the mirror
My wounds are deep inside for everyone to see
If they even cared
A girl who cries for no reason
Who knows her anger is rising inside of her
Her soul is tainted
All she wants to do is be free mirror
This is what I see inside the other side of the mirror
As I stand there looking
The blood stains on her run from her heart to waist in the reflection
Tasting the stained blood which turned to the stained un-pure blood
Of the torment, pain, and lies
Her mouth opens up to say something
But bubbles escape only
Trapped inside the mirror as I peer inside
This is what I see on the other side of the mirror
poem by Alyssa Howell
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The Calligraphy of God
Wet ink. Dry paper.
Words in heart.
Eyes focused.
No distractions.
Quiet. Sssh....
You could hear a pin drop.
Silence!
Silent.
Creativity in play.
Ingenuity in motion.
Silent.
See nothing. See everything.
As light pierces darkness.
Focus.1,2,3.
Flame to dust
Dust to man
Man to dust.
Stop.
'It is good', a voice echoes in eternity.
Day by day, I go my way
Man from ape. I close my drape.
Ordinary man, no superman cape.
That's it! , no more rhyme.
Truth be told this life's a mess.
Been through rough, tough, hell and
back.
'What's life's essence? '
So I search.
Then I find Him.
He who sat at the beginning.
Wet ink.
Dry paper.
Loads of questions.
Loads of hate.
Tons of bitterness.
This life's been a wilderness.
'I am The Artist', a voice whispers.
You're my masterpiece
I mend broken pieces
The one who makes beauty from ashes.
The clock ticks life away.
I wake up to a brand new day.
This life's neither brand nor new.
Try screwed!
Now messed up and fessed up by pain
relationships.
All's crashing! Help!
'You need help? ', an acquaintance asks.
'With what? '
'The weight on your shoulders', she
replies.
Walking on. Mind made up. This is it.
It ends tonight.
Beep. Beep. The ECG sounds.
Back on bed. Plastic on face.
O2 in. CO2 out. Eyes pop.
Still alive huh?
Lonely. Ached. Tired.
Broken. Sad. Depressed. Sane/Insane? /
From the salt of the marrow a scream
echoes in eternity.
'Heaven save me! ! ! '
The cold night calls
The tears fall like rain
Wet ink. Wet paper.
I make all things beautiful in its time
A smirk shows.
Ink continues flowing from left to right
Pendulum swings. Time takes flight.
Found Him. Found life.
For while human beings must be known
to be loved,
Divine beings must be loved to be
known.
Mud here. Mud there. Michelangelo's
jealous.
Yellow here. Gray there. Picasso's green
with envy.
Comma here. Dot there. Stephen King
takes a bow.
For love's written a story
And though it be sometimes gory
And life seems to lose it's glory
Take a minute
And picture being the art of the Infinite
The one who's got no limit
Though we run and chase cars
And life's thorns us mars
And sin sometimes takes us far
From Him who does indeed love us more
than everything
Remember this one thing For us He'll do
anything
Even shed the blood of His son
Even make still the sun
Even make me go back to my rhyming
Wow...I did go back to my rhyming!
poem by Jenim Dibie
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In Flesh and Blood
Horizon ever rising,
Darkness and light ever coming,
The waves ever flowing,
Words I pen, they read,
Form of deity they see
In a cliff I stand,
Below, spreads the beauty
Of flowers and ugly
Scars pricked by vultures
On carcasses,
The good, the bad kisses
Me side by side, like ants
On fat, true, deity not I
Here I am flesh and blood.
Us, all, seek, in prayer,
Whitewash the ugly,
Wishing in, divine fruits.
In Flesh and blood I am.
poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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A Prayer Should Be A Poem
A PRAYER SHOULD BE A POEM
A prayer should be a poem
Deepest in feeling
It should praise God
With all the soul-
And fear God
With all the heart-
And petition God
With all our inner being -
A prayer should be a poem
Our deepest poem
Of Need and Love-
Said in the words
God gave us
And in the words
We give to God.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Moon In The Mirror
Moon in the mirror,
Wont you stay a while tonight?
All things of beauty
Are too soon out of sight.
I know its a selfish plea;
You must light the hearts of more than me.
Theres a girl at her window;
Now shes trying to catch your eye.
But oh, pretty stranger,
You must keep on passing by.
Moon in the mirror, I dont know you;
Just a reflection of kisses
And whispers and indigo skies.
Moon in the mirror, look below you.
Moons looking back and theyre loving
And longing and telling no lies.
Moon in the mirror,
I will ask you one more time,
Not for a reason and not for a rhyme,
But please tell me if you can,
Have you seen a moonlit man?
Hes so very like you,
You could see him from afar.
Perhaps hes a misplaced moonbeam
Or a banished star.
Moon in the mirror, hes so like you.
Light up the room for an hour;
A smile or the beat of my heart.
Oh, how my heart tried to fight him,
Fight against mirrors of moonlight
Or lovelight. you lost from the start,
From the start
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Drinking The Ocean
Drink from the ocean with its tears overflowing,
Be free, please be free with the amount of water;
Drowning is permanent to the soul,
Be difficult as the tide, be steady now.
The tide ebbs one day and in the night it flows,
When your fat is dripping to make the body uniform.
By degrees the sun cooks you
And the sea is simmering for you,
Cooking the skull to make your brain twitch.
The brain is richer to a man when it bakes
Wherever it may be working.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tears
Tears! tears! tears!
In the night, in solitude, tears;
On the white shore dripping, dripping, suck'd in by the sand;
Tears--not a star shining--all dark and desolate;
Moist tears from the eyes of a muffled head:
--O who is that ghost?--that form in the dark, with tears?
What shapeless lump is that, bent, crouch'd there on the sand?
Streaming tears--sobbing tears--throes, choked with wild cries;
O storm, embodied, rising, careering, with swift steps along the
beach;
O wild and dismal night storm, with wind! O belching and
desperate! 10
O shade, so sedate and decorous by day, with calm countenance and
regulated pace;
But away, at night, as you fly, none looking--O then the unloosen'd
ocean,
Of tears! tears! tears!
poem by Walt Whitman
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Obsession (revised)
to believe that there are heights to my own glory
is no longer possible.
On that day in that room, where they wear
all their thick glasses, their hands have already done
what should not have been done.
I was weak, and my mouth did not open.
They kill every poem i had in my palms.
They were doves.
They said they were bats.
Black bats.
No, i said they are the whitest doves i have.
They are even angels.
They were laughing.
Some giggled.
And they
said, 'Crucify him, crucify him! '
IT was an obsession.
That i have butterflies on my hair.
That there were
red roses in my fingers.
There were none, in fact.
What i had are mere words.
Syllables of my survival.
When i left that room, i did not admit that it was my mistake.
Far from that,
i look again at my hands in the mirror,
and i saw
vines, fragile tendrils, and they are so alive, like
dragonflies.
One understands somehow, that we write, not because we want
to have a brand, a name, a tattoo
a heart, a rose, an arrow, blood dripping
NO. That is not so. We write because we are here and our fingers
are always incomplete.
We press our palms on our chest and we say
Look i love myself, and this all i got.
Let me write and let it all be about me.Not for those thick glasses
Inside that room.Their rules are not mine.
I have mine only to give.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Painted Love
My true love showers me with rainbow coloured kisses,
Softly absorbing the consience of all my desires,
Painting my world in the colours of pure love,
Passionate words hang like wonderful works of art,
Mixing my words with oil, paint, lust and love,
Rich with painted needs of pure desire,
Lips of lust imprint sweet kisses upon my soul,
When I call out your name... You grant me eternity...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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