Related quotes: A fat island burns under...

Gnawed Through

A fat island burns
under a looming sun.
Bleeding rays will enter your eyes
to see the blundering world.

The gods were melting down
looking at the corpses of
faltering orchids, spread out
at the feet of a white blaze.

The oriole sheds the gold
and embraces a brown –
black cloud against
a dazzling green.

A dishevelled country rumbles
to get a street sense from
a meditating Buddha.

poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes

White Heat

Down between the sunbeams the moneylenders chat
Hiding in the shade outside a council flat
Kids in the lift looking for things to throw
And practising their aim on the heads below
They make their apologies with the quickness of their feet
Then lost in the heat haze that shimmers across the street
Underfoot the pavement is melting
Crumbling for the luckiest girl
The whole world is melting.
(white white heat)
Im still not in until a week next wednesday
Im holidaying on the roof til the big bad wolf goes away
In the street the pavement is melting
Crumbling for the luckiest girl
The whole world is melting.
White heat turns the street upside down.
Down between the sunbeams the debt collectors chat, chat, chat, chat,
Hiding in the shade outside a council flat
By the hairs on my chinny chin chin
I shall not let you in.
In the street the pavement is melting
Crumbling for the luckiest girl
The whole world is melting.
(for the luckiest girl in all the world)
(white, white heat)

song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Highly-Colored Romance

Ben Green was a New-Hampshire boy,
Who stood full six feet two:
A jovial chap this same Ben Green,
Though he had oft been blue.
He loved a girl named Olive Brown,
Who lived near Bixby's pond,
And who, despite her brunette name,
Was a decided blonde.
"A Highly Colored Romance."
A pink of rare perfection she,
The belle of all the town;
Though Ben oft wished her Olive Green,
Instead of Olive Brown.
And she loved Ben, and said that nought
Should mar their joy serene;
And, when she changed from Olive Brown,
'Twould surely be to Green.
She kept her word in-violet,
And vowed, ere she was wed,
Although when Brown she had Be(e)n Green.
When Green she'd be well read.
But, ah! her young affections changed
To Gray, a Southern fellow;
And Green turned white the news to hear,
Though first it made him yell, oh!
Says he, " How can you lilac this,
When you vowed to be true?
I'll take your fine young lover, Gray,
And beat him till he's blue."
Then Olive Brown to crimson turned,
And said, "Do as you say:
The country long has wished to see
'The Blue combined with Gray.'"
Ben Green to purple turned with rage,
And black his brow as night;
While on the cheek of Olive Brown
The crimson changed to white.
"O cruel Olive Brown!" says Ben,
"I've been dun-brown by you:
Let this 'Grayback' his steps retrace,
And take Greenback, — oh, do!"
Poor Olive Brown, what could she say,
To sea-Green look so sad ?
And so she rose, and said to him,
"I'll go and ask my dad."
. . . .
The years rolled by: Ben's raven locks
For silver did not lack;
And Olive, with her hair of gold,
Was glad she took Greenback.

poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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It Opens

An oriole gives
an edgy call
in the blaze of morning.

I am not fully awake,
sky is melting on window.
Death has company.

Zen, it did not connect me
with your god.
I am tired of pretentions.

Small was the wasp
in a cobweb of pain.
It floated a sign of conflict.

My thorn did not prick your petals
in vain. Dead leaves
started bleeding.

poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gods

Gods of the white man,
Gods of the black man,
Gods of the almond shade
all of these Gods
have done one thing,
made the people afraid.

Gods of the red man,
Gods of the brown man
Gods of the yellow hue,
all of these Gods
have done the same
divided them into

Separate people
who've been led to believe
their God is the holy one
to save their souls
and pardon them
and deliver them
from earthly sin.

How can there be
so many Gods?
Isn't there only one?
One for every single soul
born unto this earth.
He's every color that there is
since the world's begun.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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In The Wide Brown Country

To the wide brown country the Seasons come and go
South in South Australia where the Murray flow
Through the wide brown country where the brown dust fly
When the gales are rushing down the southern sky.

In the wide brown country woods not there to see
Where the mighty Murray crawls on towards the sea
Through the bone dry paddocks that are never green
Mother Nature in this landscape in her brown only seen.

Where the black tribes fished and hunted centuries ago
Little of their culture others seem to know
Through the wide brown country they travelled far and wide
And theirs was a great culture but their culture with them died.

In the wide brown country wildering flowers are rare
And the sun parched paddocks always looking bare
And where only the hardiest can hope to survive
Emu, wombat and wallaby and grey roo seem to thrive.

In the wide brown country where the Murray flow
Onwards towards the ocean onwards ever slow
And the grass is growing brown even where the rains have been
In that brown old country that man has failed to green.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Warning to Children

Children, if you dare to think
Of the greatness, rareness, muchness
Fewness of this precious only
Endless world in which you say
You live, you think of things like this:
Blocks of slate enclosing dappled
Red and green, enclosing tawny
Yellow nets, enclosing white
And black acres of dominoes,
Where a neat brown paper parcel
Tempts you to untie the string.
In the parcel a small island,
On the island a large tree,
On the tree a husky fruit.
Strip the husk and pare the rind off:
In the kernel you will see
Blocks of slate enclosed by dappled
Red and green, enclosed by tawny
Yellow nets, enclosed by white
And black acres of dominoes,
Where the same brown paper parcel -
Children, leave the string alone!
For who dares undo the parcel
Finds himself at once inside it,
On the island, in the fruit,
Blocks of slate about his head,
Finds himself enclosed by dappled
Green and red, enclosed by yellow
Tawny nets, enclosed by black
And white acres of dominoes,
With the same brown paper parcel
Still untied upon his knee.
And, if he then should dare to think
Of the fewness, muchness, rareness,
Greatness of this endless only
Precious world in which he says
he lives - he then unties the string.

poem by Robert Graves
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Buddha Within....

Buddha's tears...
on the faces of every
hungry child in the world.
Buddha's emptiness,
in the hearts of every
person who has no home.
Buddha's sorrow,
in the eyes of every
victim of the bombings.
Buddha's silence,
at the roar of every
religious fanatic.
Buddha's compassion,
in the dirt of every
human being fallen.
Buddha's forgiveness,
in the anger of every
person driven by prejudice.
Buddha within,
seeks to evolve!
Buddha within,
just to be!
Buddha within,
already there.
Buddha within,
always has been!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Country

The love of field and coppice
Of green and shaded lanes,
Of ordered woods and gardens
Is running in your veins.
Strong love of grey-blue distance,
Brown streams and soft, dim skies
I know, but cannot share it,
My love is otherwise.

I love a sunburnt country,
A land of sweeping plains,
Of ragged mountain ranges,
Of droughts and flooding rains.
I love her far horizons,
I love her jewel-sea,
Her beauty and her terror
The wide brown land for me!

The stark white ring-barked forests,
All tragic to the moon,
The sapphire-misted mountains,
The hot gold hush of noon,
Green tangle of the brushes
Where lithe lianas coil,
And orchids deck the tree-tops,
And ferns the warm dark soil.

Core of my heart, my country!
Her pitiless blue sky,
When, sick at heart, around us
We see the cattle die
But then the grey clouds gather,
And we can bless again
The drumming of an army,
The steady soaking rain.

Core of my heart, my country!
Land of the rainbow gold,
For flood and fire and famine
She pays us back threefold.
Over the thirsty paddocks,
Watch, after many days,
The filmy veil of greenness
That thickens as we gaze ...

An opal-hearted country,
A wilful, lavish land
All you who have not loved her,
You will not understand
though Earth holds many splendours,
Wherever I may die,
I know to what brown country
My homing thoughts will fly.

poem by Dorothea Mackeller
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Caught Fire

Seemed to stop my breath
My head on your chest
Waiting to cave in
From the bottom of my...
Hear your voice again
Could we dim the sun
And wonder where we've been
Maybe you and me
So kiss me like you did
My heart stopped beating
Such a softer sin
(I'm melting, I'm melting)
In your eyes
I lost my place
Could stay a while
And I'm melting
In your eyes
Like my first time
That I caught fire
Just stay with me
Lay with me
Now
Never caught my breath
Every second I'm without you I'm a mess
Ever know each other
Trust these words are stones
why cuts aren't healing
Learning how to love
I'm melting (I'm melting)
In your eyes
I lost my place
Could stay a while
And I'm melting
In your eyes
Like my first time
That I caught fire
Just stay with me
Lay with me
(Stay with me lay with me now)
You could stay and watch me fall
And of course I'll ask for help
Just stay with me now
Take my hand
We could take our heads off
stay in bed just make love that's all
Just stay with me now
I'm melting (I'm melting)
In your eyes
I lost my place
Could stay a while
and I'm melting
In your eyes
Like my first time
That I caught fire
Just stay with me
Lay with me
In your eyes
I lost my place
Could stay a while
and I'm melting
In your eyes
Like my first time
That I caught fire
Just stay with me lay with me
(Stay with me, lay with me)
In your eyes
Let's sleep till the sun burns out
I'm melting in your eyes (I'm melting in your eyes)
Let's sleep till the sun burns out
I'm melting in your eyes

song performed by by Used
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Have hues a role?

Grass lends beauty to ‘green’;
Tooth lends beauty to ‘white’;
Sky lends beauty to ‘blue’.
So do lips to ‘red’.

Red lips excel red blood;
Brown horse excel brown ass;
Yellow gold excels yellow brass.
So does black hair, black skin.

Black hair yields to white hair;
Green meadow yields to gray one.
Brown curls yield to fallen leaves
So does tender skin to one wrinkled.

The stuff rules; the merit rules;
The young rules. Have hues a role?
13.03.2007

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Black and White

My world is black and white,
The colors I see is black and white,
Hold me tight,
Don’t let me go,
See the tears I have cried,
Listen to my cry,
Look into my eyes,
My world is black and white,
Cut my wrist,
Black my eyes,
Blacken these thoughts I think of,
Black and white is all I can see,
The tears is all I can feel,
Feel me fading away,
Watching myself falling apart,
Look deep into my eyes,
Can you see me,
Can you feel the pain I feel,
I don’t understand why I am feeling this sad,
All the moments that once we shared has faded away like others have,
I never did tried to see the beyond the black and white clouds,
I need to face what I have become,
I need to find my way back,
The black and white is all I can see and feel,
My world has been black and white.

poem by Jennifer Rondeau
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Final Door.......

Brown house
Grey smiles
Green green grass
Black shoes
Crystal tears with heart felt whispers
Hugs

Blue sky with cream teeth
Green green grass
(hold that thought)
Glassed water grasped
Taut innards
Flowers brought

White horses
Braided manes
White lilies
Window pane
White carriage
To carry forth
Green green grass
Hold that thought

Passing traffic
Collars grasped
Blurry images
Tend then pass
Crystal tears
Smart black tie
Shake and smile
Avoid the eye

Deep breath enter in
Listen watch
Let them begin
Then stare at the floor

'Bye bye darling'
Open door

poem by Karen Sinclair
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Reading poetry on the Web

i wade through rivers
of diamonds, rubies,
plain rocks and stones
that criss cross the world
picking up gems
poetry on the web
i wade through rivers
to get to international souls
sacred rivers of all kinds
ganges, indus, nile, mekong
chao phraya
filled with stones
heads of all kinds,
round, flat, sharp,
black, white, green,
brown, yellow, big and small,
sand, silt, gravel,
between them when lucky
precious gems turn up to greet me
fishes help spread the magic
liven up nooks and corners
some sprint, some plain swim
among these, the best rivers
are crystal clear,
a dazzling picture of sky, heaven
taking the breath of god
as they whisper a poetic tale
immediately marked in gold by the morning sun

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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America, So Beautiful.

Why is America the beautiful,
So beautiful?
It's because of German Polkas, and beer.
It's because of Irish corned beef, and potatoes.
It's because of French wines, and escargot.
It's because of soul food, from the hood,
The kind you find in Big Momma's,
In Cathedral City California.
It's because of Mexican food,
And the Mariachi's that accompany it.
It's because of the Hawaiian Poi,
And the Alaskan, fish ice cream.
It's because of the Italian Operas,
And spaghetti and meat balls.
It's because of the English language,
Brought to America,
By the subjects of the king.
America is blue eyes,
America is green eyes,
America is black eyes,
America is brown eyes,
America is blond hair,
America is red hair,
America is black hair,
And my all time favorite,
America is brown hair.
America is Japanese sushi,
America is Chinese hot and spicy soup.
America is mountains,
Beautiful snow covered mountains,
Shining in the sun.
America is deserts,
Hot arid and unforgiving,
And filled with life.
America is forests,
That extend,
'From sea to shining sea.'
America is ingenuity,
Great minds, from all over the world,
Reach their great fruition,
In America.
Where they are free.
Why is America the beautiful,
So beautiful?
It's because America is a rainbow,
Red, white, black, yellow, brown,
And all the myriads of colors,
These main colors produce.
It's so cliche to say,
We are a melting pot.
I prefer to say, What the great Bill Murray said.
'We are a mongrel race.'
Yet nothing on God's green Earth,
Is more loyal, more faithful, more loving,
And more devoted,
Than the mongrel.
America the beautiful.

poem by Juan Olivarez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Our Black And White World...

in our black and
white world
play me a song
of the rainbow
strum me your
guitar
and let me live
on multicolored
notes
i too shall sing
the colors of
my own world
and you may listen
both of us
shall paint
this black and white world
with the shades
of our hopes
pastel blue
light green
bright red
shining gold.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shattered windows, Colors of white

Across the street is a new house with a room painted red, with no holes of white.
Next to me, a house purple, with its color pealing off, with holes of black and white
At the end of the street, an old house once yellow, what now remains white.
The sound of a hammer building a house, entering a place with a color unknown.

On the street,
Windows covered with ice
Some shine with light.
Some broken
Some fixed
Some lost, out of sight.

A house, two blocks from here.
Shines with lights of yellow, red, and green everywhere.
A wall keeping the wind from blowing anywhere.
The house next door, at the dawn of the day.
Paints its room black, and peals the color away.

The wall crumbles.
The wind blows across the colors of yellow, red and green
Breaks all the windows.
Turns the yellow to blue, red to black, and green to white.

The house two blocks away.
Adds a line of yellow red and green everyday.
To allow the house of blue, black and white to shine for us some day.

poem by Linda ErikssonBique
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Harlem Shadows

I hear the halting footsteps of a lass
In Negro Harlem when the night lets fall
Its veil. I see the shapes of girls who pass
To bend and barter at desire's call.
Ah, little dark girls who in slippered feet
Go prowling through the night from street to street!

Through the long night until the silver break
Of day the little gray feet know no rest;
Through the lone night until the last snow-flake
Has dropped from heaven upon the earth's white breast,
The dusky, half-clad girls of tired feet
Are trudging, thinly shod, from street to street.

Ah, stern harsh world, that in the wretched way
Of poverty, dishonor and disgrace,
Has pushed the timid little feet of clay,
The sacred brown feet of my fallen race!
Ah, heart of me, the weary, weary feet
In Harlem wandering from street to street.

poem by Claude McKay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Colours Of Life

Sunny morning, golden noon, rose pink twilight, silver moon.
Grey black cloud, creamy sea, lightning bright, green brown tree.
Yellow with age, white with fright, red with rage, black as night.
Green with envy, rainbow hue, in the pink, sky of blue.
Countless colours running rife. These are the colours of our life.

poem by Rod Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Equally Holy....

there is no difference,
in the man painting the walls
of the chapel,
and the homeless man pissing
in the alley...
in the Madonna,
and the young woman
giving birth on the floor
of a welfare apartment.
in the Buddha,
and the child starving
to death in a third world country...
in the doctor saving lives,
and the addict on the street.
in the peacemaker,
and the soldier afraid on the battlefield...
in the leader, the priest, and the whore.
in black or white, and the illegal immigrant.
all are equally holy!