Hand Gloves
today i am not one whole, placid;
blood streaked globe of full moon
was hovering over me all night
to freeze a ruined landscape, i was
not ready for the departure, untying
the knots of water, like the storm opening
the mouth of a hidden cave in a deep sea,
there was anything unsaid between us,
a new verb joining strange nouns, the lips
swimming in coral tears, amid the frail
words of assaults and wounds of fractured
signatures; in the end are left only the orbits
poem by Satish Verma
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Related quotes
Coupling
In the tiny truths behind the hidden
words and blood streaked cheeks, you
drink ozone in deep layers. I will count
all my sins and light the candles in a row.
On the pillow of moon, night slept in half-slumber.
I tendered an apology
and wrote a new poem. It was not a rebuke
of stars.
This was my ad lib before the sun rise
and roses opening the blood conversations
with the grand stings. The wrapped hunger
starts wailing.
poem by Satish Verma
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The Moon Rhyme
In letters red
Whispers are shed
Of blood stained tears
And skin born paths
In letters red
The whispers bled
Deathbed fears
Aftermaths
Don’t cry at the Moon
Companion boon
Of travellers’ passing word
In distant planes
The light disdains
The dirge forever unheard
And hides the caves
Like tokens shed
The wall that craves
The words unsaid
To bury them deep inside
In whispers rushing tide
Don’t cry at the Moon
Companion boon
Across the sky born glide
In distant planes
The light disdains
The darkness hidden inside
And hides the face
Like a token shed
The silent trace
The words unsaid
To find a well so deep
Their place in death to sleep
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Fractured Moon
Fractured moon
In a silver spoon
Dissolved into the eyes
Of awakening tiger
Then moved away
In a vanishing light
With a lunar tone
Fractured moon
Swallowed
By a flying dragon
With all fire and no fire
The fractured moon
Collapsed in doom
While the souls
Of the dead
Still roam
Closer and closer
Near the moon
Around the moon
Within the moon
Or what have left
From a
Fractured moon
Or maybe
Another Moon
Like a photo of
A bright image
Held by aging fingers
Of a woman
Praying in her
Upstairs Room
For “long” dead
Human loved form
Near the bolted
Green back door
Stood a ghostly figure
Of an old man
Weeping
In the silence of
An astral night
Trying for an opening
To reach her
Over and over
But in vain
For the woman
in the
Upstairs room
Darkness born
In the second shadow
Of a fractured moon
And light moulded
In the old house
In a special corner
of
A very special room
Fractured moon
In a silver spoon
Dissolved into the eyes
Of awakening tiger
Then moved away
In a vanishing light
With a lunar tone
poem by Najib Altawell
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Verbs v. nouns
Nouns…
they’re dead things; names
you give to things to render them
immobile; to make them yours, your very own; fit for nothing
except scrapheaps, museums, dictionaries, armchairs;
but they make you feel good;
you have control over their world;
you don’t have to think about them any more;
they’re all locked up safe in your collecting-box,
the noun for which is head:
you can sound important with nouns:
this government’s raft of measures
for fiscal stimulation of the economy
but verbs… ah, verbs!
you can’t own them, push them about,
collect them, be important about them;
they own themselves;
they’re outdoor words: going about their
lawful business, doing what they're best at,
measuring their own life as they work;
adapting themselves to what needs to be done
which nouns can’t do without a committee
and then it’s too late; happy
to be themselves, being; even
being while they’re doing.. don't you wish
you were a verb?
Nature – (that’s a verb, by the way,
not a noun) – is all verbs; evolution
is a verb (not a theory):
DNA’s a verb – you can’t own it
like a noun…it doesn’t even
want to own you…
so, be a child – put your boots on,
run, splash, shout look at all those verbs;
how bright the world, what fun,
nothing to put in your pocket to take home
(or if you do, it’ll change to a noun, your noun,
in your pocket, in your drawer, gathering dust:
verbs don’t have the time to gather dust…)
verbs are for observing; verbs are for
seeing for the first time; wow! Verbs are for
inventors, explorers, tree-climbing,
coming home after a day of verb-watching
tired and looking forward to tomorrow
and sleeping soundly, maybe even
thanking, laughing, giving, living;
God is a verb.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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A Killer Word
Strewn on the ground
were the nouns;
the gerunds
and the active verbs,
along with the Criminal Looks
and Sly Slights.
There was a Wad of Silence
masquerading as 'Quiet Time.'
The Absences were white chalk outlines
and fittingly so-
there was nothing of substance left.
The yellow plastic cord-rope
denoted the murder scene-
'move on' the cop said
'nothing left to here to see.'
You could glimpse the outline
of a person there
face-down in the street;
cut down from childhood
with Withering Stares
and Stab-Words;
Rejecting Gerunds
Shredded Feeling Tones,
Mocking Participles-
Little Murders all of them-
Psychic Evils
marauding Word Killers-
inflicting wounds that bleed-
inside the mind;
blood red emotions
running thick in the street.
Someone calls 911
but they come much too late.
What's really needed is 411
for those who need to know
Psychic Wounds
burrow deep
and eat out
from the inside.
A word is a dangerous thing
to swing
in a crowded room.
You can put someone's
heart out
in the bitter
cold;
where warm hearts
freeze-dry;
shrivel up
and sometimes cynicalize
from Bitter Hate
and then
Word-Murder
somebody else.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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I Cried Again
The little tear that fell down my cheek
drew an ocean to the people below
they swam and swam untill they go tired
then they went to the black of their homes
they cried themselves to sleep that night
in the heat of the night they did sleep
awaiting the sandman to come give them their dreams
and to dream a dream of the deep
the depth of the waters hidden inside my tears
creating the ocean of which they do swim
without them ill die a slow suicide
the droubt of the midst of my tears
waiting just waiting for the tears of the night
awaiting the pain of my cries
as if i dont cry ill simply just die
so i must keep bringng the tears
but tonight i tried to cry again
bringing the emotions of the past
watching and waiting, watching and waiting
of the little peoples dreaming to last
but they did not appear from the mist of my tears
they did not attract to the swimming
as if they had entered the door of my heart
swimming off all of the good feelings
stay little ones swim off my dreams, swim as if never felt water
my tears are now gone and no misses all along
just a smile blessed into deep slumber
poem by Kristinahh KIMBER
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I Go Swimming
Ooh, I go swimming, swimming in the water
Swimming in the river, swimming in the sea
I go swimming
I go swimming, swimming in the water
Swimming in the pool, swimming is cool
I go swimming
The sun is burning, I am yearning
For the waterflow (waterflow)
Next to my skin i, like to begin a
Waterflow (waterflow)
Letting off steam I float in a dream,
I cant let go (cant let go)
Follow my wishes, follow the fishes
Down below (down below)
I go swimming
I need water, water to drink
Water on my brain, water sustain,
Water over me
I want water, water I need
Water to think, water to drink
Water over me
The sun is burning, I am yearning
For the waterflow (waterflow)
Next to my skin i, like to begin a
Waterflow (waterflow)
Letting off steam I float in a dream,
I cant let go (cant let go)
Follow my wishes, follow the fishes
Down below (down below)
I go swimming
I go swimming, I go swimming
Swimming in water, swimming in water, swimming in water
Water all over me
Swimming in water, swimming in water, swimming in water
I go swimming, I go swimming
I go swimming, I go swimming
Swimming, I go swimming
Oh I go swimming, I go swimming
Water all over me
Swimming in water, swimming in water, swimming in water
Water all over me
Swimming in water, swimming in water, swimming in water
Water all over me
Swimming in water, swimming in water, swimming in water
Water all over me
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Took The Words Right Out My Mouth
It was a hot summer night and the beach was burning
There was a fog crawling over the sand
When I listen to your heart I hear the whole world turning
I see the shooting stars
Falling through your trembling hands
You were licking your lips and your lipstick shining
I was dying just to ask for a taste
We were lying together in a silver lining
By the light of the moon
You know there's not another moment to waste
Not another moment
Not another moment to waste
You hold me so close that my knees grow weak
But my soul is flying high above the ground
I'm trying to speak but no matter what I do
I just can't seem to make any sound
And then you took the words right out of my mouth
Oh-it must have been while you were kissing me
You took the words right out of my mouth
And I swear it's true
I was just about to say I love you
And then you took the words right out of my mouth
Oh-it must have been while you were kissing me
You took the words right out of my mouth
And I swear it's true
I was just about to say I love you
Now my body is shaking like a wave on the water
And I guess that I'm beginning to grin
Oooh, we're finally alone and we can do what we want to
The night is young
And ain't no one gonna know where
No one gonna know where
No one's gonna know where you've been
You were licking your lips and your lipstick shining
I was dying just to ask for a taste
We were lying together in a silver lining
By the light of the moon
You know there's not another moment to waste
Not another moment
Not another moment to waste
And then you took the words right out of my mouth
Oh-it must have been while you were kissing me
You took the words right out of my mouth
And I swear it's true
I was just about to say I love you
And then you took the words right out of my mouth
Oh-it must have been while you were kissing me
You took the words right out of my mouth
And I swear it's true
I was just about to say I love you
song performed by by Meat Loaf
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Your mind's ocean
Swimming away
swimming away
swimming away yeah
swimming through the deep blue ocean
nothing but red skies ahead
so put on ya hat and sun screen lotion
operation over cooperation
go swimming in your mind's ocean
The water so still
and the wind in motion
i'll be up and alive
before i'm down and moping
wake up in the water
before you drown
i'll make you want to smile
with my speechless frown
so put on ya hat and sun screen lotion
operation over anticipation
go swimming in your mind's ocean
Thoughts of doom and no hope
I'll dropp them in the oceans deep
To save my eyes when i grope
Dead to the world in this cool sleep
Swimming away
Swimming away
we'll swim all night
And walk all day
so put on ya hat and sun screen lotion
operation over destination
Lets go swimming
Lets go Swimming
in your mind's ocean
poem by Allen Steble
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The Knots
When a sweater is knitted,
The knots are gathered,
When the future is knitted,
The knots have to be removed,
When the knots are allowed to gather,
The future may not be clear to prosper,
When the knots are not uniformly arranged,
The sweater may not look elegant and chic,
But still serve the purpose, not as the future,
That is full of knots, yet to untangle,
To have the clear path without thorns,
Either well traveled or yet to be known,
Creating knots is fun at first,
Untie them is the task we do in future.
Those who know to tie the untie able knots,
Are victorious to the ones, who knows not,
Putting a permanent knot is the work of a feeble.
when we pull the thread of the sweaters,
we will be left with threads in pieces,
life without knots is meaningless,
life with full of knots is worthless.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Spring Shower
Winked to the birdcherry, gulped amid tears,
Splashed over carriages' varnish, trees' tremble.
Full moon. The musicians are picking their way
To the theatre. More and more people assemble.
Puddles on stone. Like a throat overfilled
With tears are the roses, deep with wet scalding
Diamonds. Showers of gladness thrill,
Eyelashes, stormclouds, and roses enfolding.
The moon for the first time is casting in plaster
An epic poem uncast till today:
The cordons, the flutter of dresses, the speaker
And people enraptured and carried away.
Whose is the heart whose whole blood shot to glory
Drained from the cheeks? We are held in his grip.
The hands of Kerensky are squeezing together
Into a bunch our aortas and lips.
This is not night, not rain, not a chorus
Of tearing acclaim for him, swelled to a roar-
This is the blinding leap to the Forum
From catacombs wanting an exit before.
It is not roses, not Ups, not the roaring
Crowd-it's the surf on Theatre Square,
Marking the end of the long sleep of Europe,
Proud of her own reawakening here.
poem by Boris Pasternak
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A Life Of Crime
Frail friends, I love you all!
Maybe that's the trouble,
storm in the eye of a storm.
Everyone wants too much.
Instead we gratefully accept
some stylized despair:
suitcoats left hanging
on folding chairs, snow falling
inside a phonebooth, cows
scouring some sad pasture.
You know the sort of landscape,
all sensibility and no trees.
Nothing but space, a little
distance between friends.
As if loneliness didn't make us
responsible, and want accomplices.
Better to drink at home
than to fall down in bars.
Or to read all night a novel
with missing heirs, 513 pages
in ten-point type, and lay my body
down, a snarl of urges
orbited by blood,
dreaming of others.
poem by William Matthews
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Here Comes The Moon
Everybodys talking up a storm
Act like they dont notice it
But here it is and here it comes . . .
Here comes the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon.
Impulse always quickens when its full
As it turns my head around me
Yes it does and here it comes
Here comes the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon.
Gods gift I see thats moving up there into the night . . .
Though dark the mirror in the sky reflects us our light:
Looks like a little brother to the sun
Or mother to the stars at night
And here it is and here it comes
Here comes the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon.
Breath is always taken when its new
Enhance upon the clouds around it
Yes it is and here it comes
Here comes the moon, the moon, the moon.
song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Moon's Kiss
It was a cold december night
the full moon was bright
deep under i was lying down
in the bottom i was starring at a clear night sky
in the bottom of the ocean
suddenly a cold chill slipped through by bones
then i saw a thin dark line pushed by the stream
it interferred with moon face reflect on water's surface
fear envade my heart like a scream
i came out from the water
to take out the line from it's face so perfect
then the moon smiled to me
then i woke up from dream
with a single long hair within my lips
i kissed the moon
poem by Kamel Kamel
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To Want To Do To Perfect An Art
this is the secret
passed from one mouth
to another
about the greatness of this
art
first is to want
then to do
and then to do this
and that over and over again
because you want it
and you want to do it
and so
this is the greatness of this art
to want, to do, to perfect
the art of fitting words
like pipe to pipe
where water runs
to quench the thirsty mouth
out there
you and i,
art and fidelity
technique on
the opaque
optics of options
wordiness and worthiness
you and i
love and devotion
sun to day
moon to night
hand to mouth
eyes and lips
body and soul
the soundness
and the soundless
bursting of my
emotions, tonight.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fishy Tales
Fishy Tales
Do you ever envy Fish in the sea?
Swimming free in their underwater world?
Do ever wonder whether sea horses
Gallop all over the place
Or run a million dollar race like the Melbourne Cup?
Do you ever wonder whether the Moray Eel
Tire of darting and weaving
Amongst the shadowy caverns of their coral stone lair
Hidden from sight by slippery sea weed
Waving their arms amongst the colourful sea anemone
Or whether Sunfish worship the sun
From the depths of the sea
Or simply glide by playing hide and seek
In the mysterious deep
Or follow the trail left my migrating turtles
Or the tit bits that the Remora chases
On the back of a shark
Or whether the Great white shark is really
The merciless predator of the deep
Or simply the opportunist
And whether Fish ever get tired of swimming
Sometimes I wonder!
Letting Go Today
today i am letting go of all the pain
today i am letting go of everything
and after today i will leave here knowing that you did love me
and i believe that things will change
all the things that were left unsaid
all the things we never did
i am letting go today
mom i am letting you go today
i understand that i have made some mistakes
some which i am still paying for today
but i am ready for change. it takes two to fight
and i refuse to fight anymore after today
dad i am letting go today
you gave me the best seven months of ma life
you showed me that everyone is not the same
and have different ways with dealing with things
i hurt you but i am letting all that go today
all the lies and the tears in ma eyes
tory i am letting go today
i was confused
had noone in the world to tell me what to do
i have so much pain and hate but im letting all that go today
i am humen and i dont always have the answer for everthing
i am tryen but i need to try harder.
so i am letting maself go today
all the hurt all the pain
i promise you i am letting it all go today
poem by Destiny Tatum
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Night In A Foxhole
I sit in a foxhole with two other men
One of them sleeps while the other lies dead
Just three more long hours ‘til my nightly watch ends
But sleep will not instill rest in my head
Battle wounds are revealed by the moon
As the beams search our faces so aged
Finding not the tears internally kept, for as soon
As they were wept they were caged
Bombs sleep in their shells ‘til commanded ahead
Ready to burst like something unsaid
They whisper smoke and shake hands with destruction
They bring silent scenes with ears that don't function
Brothers, so many, eternally bound
By the blood that we've spilled here upon the ground
By the stains on our souls of the lives that we've taken
By the doubt that has found us, and our hope it has shaken
By the haunting memories that knock on Night's door
By the will to survive or else die in the arms of a fellow soldier at war
poem by Argentine Tango
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The departure lounge.
Many times,
I have been near the departure lounge.
Never knew the how or why.
Only too near tears to cry.
Time to leave.
Cliches on your sleeve.
Ready to be 'sold'.
Like cards up, an armful ready.
The departure lounge.
What is this place?
The only sensible option!
Many times,
I could have gone
Rather than see and play out-
Bitter endings.
The departure lounge!
A better place to be looking at
From a comfortable view
Than actually arrive at.
poem by Peter Vealey
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On The Brink
I WATCH’D her as she stoop’d to pluck
A wild flower in her hair to twine;
And wish’d that it had been my luck
To call her mine;
Anon I heard her rate with mad,
Mad words her babe within its cot,
And felt particularly glad
That it had not.
I knew (such subtle brains have men!)
That she was uttering what she shouldn’t;
And thought that I would chide, and then
I thought I would n’t.
Few could have gaz’d upon that face,
Those pouting coral lips, and chided:
A Rhadamanthus, in my place,
Had done as I did.
For wrath with which our bosoms glow
Is chain’d there oft by Beauty’s spell;
And, more than that, I did not know
The widow well.
So the harsh phrase pass’d unreprov’d:
Still mute—(O brothers, was it sin?)—
I drank, unutterably mov’d,
Her beauty in.
And to myself I murmur’d low,
As on her upturn’d face and dress
The moonlight fell, “Would she say No,—
By chance, or Yes?”
She stood so calm, so like a ghost,
Betwixt me and that magic moon,
That I already was almost
A finish’d coon.
But when she caught adroitly up
And sooth’d with smiles her little daughter;
And gave it, if I ’m right, a sup
Of barley-water;
And, crooning still the strange, sweet lore
Which only mothers’ tongues can utter,
Snow’d with deft hand the sugar o’er
Its bread-and-butter;
And kiss’d it clingingly (ah, why
Don’t women do these things in private?)—
I felt that if I lost her, I
Should not survive it.
And from my mouth the words nigh flew,—
The past, the future, I forgat ’em,—
“Oh, if you ’d kiss me as you do
That thankless atom!”
But this thought came ere yet I spake,
And froze the sentence on my lips:
“They err who marry wives that make
Those little slips.”
It came like some familiar rhyme,
Some copy to my boyhood set;
And that ’s perhaps the reason I’m
Unmarried yet.
Would she have own’d how pleas’d she was,
And told her love with widow’s pride?
I never found out that, because
I never tried.
Be kind to babes and beasts and birds,
Hearts may be hard though lips are coral;
And angry words are angry words:
And that ’s the moral.
poem by Charles Stuart Calverley
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