Uneaten Fruit
From the unread book
I look back at three generations, with
whom I was fighting
for a staircase, which did not
take me anywhere.
It was an edge over the wisdom
for footfalls in space
for an apology for an unknown warrior
waiting of a midnight sun
for a foretaste of time.
I do not want you to come
as a pawnbroker,
I have nothing to offer for exchange.
From my grandfather I got his shoes,
my father gave me his eyes.
Still I am groping in dark
to justify the everlasting sky
full of needles.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Stranger
I met him on the way last sunday
He said that he is a Postmaster
I said how glad to meet him
and I gave him some letters to post.
I met him again, yes the same person on monday.
He said that he knows my father and he too a blacksmith.
Then I gave him a knife to sharpen.
I met him at the cemetery gravel road on Tuesday.
Yes, the same gentleman.
He said that he is a Pawnbroker, he knows my mother well
and he lives behind the cemetery.
I gave him my wedding ring and begged for money.
He took it and ran away.
One day when I was just passing the graveyard I saw his tomb with a photograph.
and this was written.
'Once a post master
and a blacksmith
killed a pawnbroker
died as a gambler'
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Old Books
Look back
The old rack
May have in its nooks
Dusty books
That was for you made
But you never read
Like you never noticed eyes
With loving look
Never heard sighs
Things you mistook
And lost for good
Like the unread book!
There maybe something
For long waiting
Unknown to you
Silent but precious
Like dropping dew
Life’s must
Withering away in dust!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Waiting For Valentino
When I was young,
way back in Sicily
you should have seen me
My hair then was long
There was this one young man
who always came around
and gave me this ribbon of velvet brown
Waiting for Valentino
His dark eyes lock on mine
Waiting for Valentino
Then you did what you were told
Married a cousin I didn't know
He'd fallen in love with my photograph
Oh why, worked harder then I could bare
and he never seemed to care
I bore his only son at the end of that year
There is a place I can slip away to
out in the desert of sand and dune
My she's tan; she looks like a mirage
Someday I'll escape there like Scherazade
Waiting for Valentino
His dark eyes lock on mine
Waiting for Valentino
To carry me off through time
I had lived long as I can
Made three generations American
Now my daughter takes my hand
and whispers to me
There is a place I can slip away to
out in the desert of sand and dune
My she's tan; she looks like a mirage
Someday I'll escape there like Scherazade
Waiting for Valentino
His dark eyes lock on mine
Waiting for Valentino
To carry me off through time
To carry me off through time
To carry me off through time
To carry me off through time
song performed by by Cyndi Lauper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Tired Of Waiting
tired of waiting
I've been waiting up all night
tired of waiting
I've been waiting since midnight
tired of waiting
just to give you an insight
tired of waiting
I've half a mind to walk away
and half a mind to stay
I'm tired of waiting
I'm tired of the lies, baby
too many broken promises
am I the only one who cares
I must be dreaming
are you for real today
oh, look at the bed we made
woe-betide the friends that I betrayed
god only knows the price I paid
you can't imagine
I gave you time and space
but love still leaves you cold, no time to waste
let me be your saving grace
I'm tired of waiting
alright
tired of waiting
hate to see you so uptight
tired of waiting
let me give you an insight
tired of waiting
with the benefit of hindsight
tired of waiting
when your father ran away to sea
he was running to be free
I know the feeling
'cause you put the hurt on me
I try so hard to compensate
all you do is make me wait
times are changing
you can lean on me
song performed by by Level 42
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
This Is the Day
This is the day the Lord God has made, let me rejoice in it.
This morning I open my eyes,
Look up to heaven and expect everything beautiful and nice,
I give thanks to my God that he guides me,
Into perfect health, good living and everlasting happiness in Thee.
Betterment shall go on and on as long as I am here on Earth,
Because my Father loves me and gave me a new birth.
Temptations, bad experiences, humiliations and troubles fly away,
God's will is my will; everlasting happiness is mine all day.
Whatever I do, wherever I go and appear,
All recognize God's wisdom and love in me and my eyes have no more tear.
Only perfect health, good living, freedom and happiness are my inheritance,
Wisdom, goodness, glory, beauty, harmony and honor are my Father's presents.
So, let me go on with my life today,
Let me look up to heaven and expect everything beautiful I can think or say,
Let me give thanks to my God that he guides me,
Into perfect health, good living and everlasting happiness in Thee.
poem by LaSoaphia QuXazs
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Silver Needles
(ian hunter)
Youre just a stranger in the past
Just another mug that could never last
You came up slow but you burned out fast (didnt ya)
It aint silver needles on the run
No it aint silver needles on the run
It aint silver needles on the run
Shh you make me feel so bad
You thought you was the only one that got messed up
Me n all the others never had it so rough
Well how come youre dead and Im still stood up
Well it aint silver needles on the run
Silver needles on the run
No it aint silver needles on the run
Oh I remember....
All your plans were made on some pr floor
n all your bags were packed, they never reached the door.
Out ordering (? ) your thought exchange
All your brains were acting strange
You never lied in dreams before
There must be more to life than getting sore
(what do you think? )
I seen in some music paper that you was gone
And I went right out and wrote you a farewell song
Boy, they had you dead before you was born
And its a shame - you were such a great mover
But it aint silver needles on the run
No it aint silver needles on the run
Silver needles on the run
Silver needles on the run
Silver needles on the run
Silver needles on the run
(next)
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
In View of the Biblical Zoo
Over the tree line towards the valleys end
Abed Abed-Rabbo raises a hand
The farm he surveys, his father's before him
Has been past down for generations in keeping with custom
In view of the Biblical Zoo
A farm of olives trees is a refreshing contrast
Against an imposing backdropp of urban concrete
And an ever expanding city complex
But because of the need for living space
This established ecosystem is being replaced
And Abed Abed-Rabbo is now forced to abdicate
His precious Olive farm, with its one room sleeping cave
Against urban sprawl and concrete walls
Alone one man can not possibly stand
And any amount of compensation cannot match
The resulting environmental impact
Even if it appears we live comfortably
In reality it is, pseudo-security
Without air or water quality
In an ever expanding city
© Calac
Abed Abed-Rabbo – A Palestinian farmer,48, inherited his farm full of olive trees overlooking the Jerusalem Biblical Zoo from his father and his grandfather.
The property in the village of Wallajeh, is situated on the southern edge of Jerusalem.
A decision to annex his farm full of olive trees into the city has been proposed due to the demand for apartment living space
poem by Chris Lane
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Dark Knight Comes Too Pass
The dark knight has come
Fighting for his moment
Fighting for his glory
Fighting for his thrown
Fighting is all he has ever known
From a mere boy
Being raised by the wolves
Living in the darkness for just too long
Something just went so wrong
The dark knight has come
Fighting for his moment
Fighting for his glory
Fighting for his thrown
Fighting is all he has ever known
Was it a death so desperately
Forever in misery
A loves tragedy
Is always so sad to see
The dark knight has come
Fighting for his moment
Fighting for his glory
Fighting for his thrown
Fighting is all he has ever known
The not so dead family
A murder held with in their arms
With no recourse
With no remorse
The dark knight has come
Fighting for his moment
Fighting for his glory
Fighting for his thrown
Fighting is all he has ever known
He's the alternate ending
As the light comes to pass
Shadows lurk
They shouldn't be disturbed
Let them rest in peace
The dark knight has come
Fighting for his moment
Fighting for his glory
Fighting for his thrown
Fighting is all he has ever known
Festered hate fills his eyes
As he is victimized
By those desecrated his loves ones grave
Becoming of the nightly terrors
The dark knight has come
Fighting for his moment
Fighting for his glory
Fighting for his thrown
Fighting is all he has ever known
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Grandfather – I
Oh how I miss him
A man of wisdom
His stories I heard
With the mind of a child
And the love of a grandson
Our fishing trips
Vacations in Boston
Baseball in the backyard
Football on the weekends
When I was older we talked
Spoke of his younger days
Spoke of my days to come
From grandfather to grandson
Yet days he did not speak of
Days of death and days of war
Battles on the beaches of the pacific
Battles of the Second World War
Fighting for our freedom
Fighting for those who live today
Not for honor or glory or power
But for the blessings of liberty
A man of wisdom
A man of honor
Oh how I miss him
My Grandfather
poem by Robert Crook
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Justify My Love
Wanting, waiting for you to justify my love
I want you to chew my balls
In Paris, Niagara Falls
I want you to lick my toes
Los Angeles, San Francisco
With the fags and the ho's.
Wanting, waiting for you to justify my love
For you to justify my love...
Oh oh oh oh.
Oh oh oh oh.
Wanting, waiting for you to justify my love
Wanting, waiting for you to justify my love
song performed by by Marilyn Manson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Idea of Ancestry
Taped to the wall of my cell are 47 pictures: 47 black
faces: my father, mother, grandmothers (1 dead), grand-
fathers (both dead), brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts,
cousins (1st and 2nd), nieces, and nephews.They stare
across the space at me sprawling on my bunk.I know
their dark eyes, they know mine.I know their style,
they know mine.I am all of them, they are all of me;
they are farmers, I am a thief, I am me, they are thee.
I have at one time or another been in love with my mother,
1 grandmother, 2 sisters, 2 aunts (1 went to the asylum),
and 5 cousins.I am now in love with a 7-yr-old niece
(she sends me letters in large block print, and
her picture is the only one that smiles at me).
I have the same name as 1 grandfather, 3 cousins, 3 nephews,
and 1 uncle. The uncle disappeared when he was 15, just took
off and caught a freight (they say).He's discussed each year
when the family has a reunion, he causes uneasiness in
the clan, he is an empty space.My father's mother, who is 93
and who keeps the Family Bible with everbody's birth dates
(and death dates) in it, always mentions him.There is no
place in her Bible for "whereabouts unknown."
poem by Etheridge Knight
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
At The Edge Of The Edge Of The Edge
AT THE EDGE OF THE EDGE OF THE EDGE
At the edge of the edge of the edge
There is another invisible edge
And this too has an edge and another edge
Edges unending
Beyond our comprehension
Waiting for us to fall down and down-
On the edge of the edge of the edge
I write on
Has the great descent already begun
And am I in the midst of it
As I pretend to go on?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Before the beginning and after the end
Before the beginning of time and space.
Before the onset of the human race.
He was there, The Triune One
The Father, The Spirit and The Son.
Before photonic light began to sparkle.
Before the first sub atomic particle.
He was there, The Almighty One
The Father, The Spirit and The Son.
Before the material universe began.
Before the footsteps of the first man.
He was there, The Omnipresent One
The Father, The Spirit and The Son.
After all material things cease to be
and photonic light fades into history.
He will be there, The Omniscient One
The Father, The Spirit and The Son.
From everlasting to everlasting.
All things surpassing and outlasting
For He is The Omnipotent One
The Father, The Spirit and The Son.
Nighttime Traffic Jam - Un callejon sin salida
I pass my father
In the hall
Several times a night
When I get up to take a piss
I run into my Uncle Mike
Waiting in line
With Grandpa Bill and
My Great-Grandfather Jim Boots
I'm no sooner back in bed
Than I hear them
Lining up again
Crowding my dark hallway
I guess even in death
Your prostrate won't
Let you get
Uninterrupted rest
poem by Tom J. Mariani
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Grandfather Says
"Sit in my hand."
I'm ten.
I can't see him,
but I hear him breathing
in the dark.
It's after dinner playtime.
We're outside,
hidden by trees and shrubbery.
He calls it hide-and-seek,
but only my little sister seeks us
as we hide
and she can't find us,
as grandfather picks me up
and rubs his hands between my legs.
I only feel a vague stirring
at the edge of my consciousness.
I don't know what it is,
but I like it.
It gives me pleasure
that I can't identify.
It's not like eating candy,
but it's just as bad,
because I had to lie to grandmother
when she asked,
"What do you do out there?"
"Where?" I answered.
Then I said, "Oh, play hide-and-seek."
She looked hard at me,
then she said, "That was the last time.
I'm stopping that game."
So it ended and I forgot.
Ten years passed, thirtyfive,
when I began to reconstruct the past.
When I asked myself
why I was attracted to men who disgusted me
I traveled back through time
to the dark and heavy breathing part of my life
I thought was gone,
but it had only sunk from view
into the quicksand of my mind.
It was pulling me down
and there I found grandfather waiting,
his hand outstretched to lift me up,
naked and wet
where he rubbed me.
"I'll do anything for you," he whispered,
"but let you go."
And I cried, "Yes," then "No."
"I don't understand how you can do this to me.
I'm only ten years old,"
and he said, "That's old enough to know."
The Space
The Space
Silence is not totally quiet it has an Om
A chant of the everlasting and soothes a restive heart.
I used to be a warrior a hero of every war fought,
Now I hear the Om and see moss on stones.
On a painting I saw time’s little sister she shimmered
Above ground and is the air I breathe.
What was important is now hollow only beauty prevails.
The everlasting is all around me as I walk on a lane of
sea sand and crushed shells, time’s little sister smiles,
tells me nothingness is the highest prize.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Request To The Dead
I offer this water to you,
my father, grandfather and great grandfather,
and to you, soldiers and generals
who fought for us and who fought against us
and who were killed by this war.
I stand here, on this battlefield,
and give this water and this rice to you—
you must be hungry and thirsty.
Ask for nothing
other than water and rice,
don't add to the long list
of things I was not able to give;
be content with this water and this rice
and return
to wherever you came from.
Consider this: the years
I have spent with you were many;
and this: it will not be long
before I join you wherever you sojourn.
Had I possessed things
other than this water and this rice,
would I have denied them to you
and asked you to return ?
Whatever I have
other than this water and this rice
are surely not appropriate offerings
for departed souls.
True, I traverse everyday of my life
with this baggage of witheld things,
but whenever I look at them
I disintegrate and cry out
with a voice that rends
the heavens
and the underworld.
Tears fill my eyes
when I make this offering
of water and rice.
I know, when my turn comes,
I shall have neither.
Look, the sun has almost set.
Now, go back to wherever you came from
with the little water and the little rice I gave you.
Look, I myself do not have
either any water or any rice.
Look, I have nothing except the few things
I didn't give
and kept with myself.
[Translated by the poet]
poem by Ramakanta Rath
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Man At The Bar
The Man At The Bar
I saunter toward the bar of my neighborhood tavern
For my weekly libation and some solitude in reading.
Tinseled ads dangle down like stalagtites in dim cavern
In this dark refuge, where world’s woes, no one’s heeding
At the bar sit’s a man alone, o’er long necked bottle, working-mans hands hover
Eyes unfocused, staring unseeingly, deep into space
While I, a book in one hand and cash for my pint in the other
Wait for my drink, when I sense his sad gaze drift round to my face
The palpable pull of his gaze makes me turn, nod politely and say “hi”
And his eyes slowly shift down to the book in my clasp
“Sir, “ said he, “might I have a peek at your book? ” A reticent request, soft as a sigh
“of course, ” said I, and placed my dog-eared edition in his work-calloused grasp
A quick, cursory page riffling, then a wry wrinkled look
The tattered book proffered back to me with a sad sibilant sigh
“Ya know, ” he said to me “I can’t read a damn word in that book? ”
Embarrassment, mixed with defiance, in his averted, anguished eye
Squaring his shoulders as if shaking off a great leaden burden
Turned once more to me, and continued his confessional tale
My ale, slow arriving gave me time to pay full attention
And his long moored frustrations, once untied took full sail
“Dropped out of school quite young, ”he said
“a waste of his time, ” he thought then
“Had he the wisdom then, that now had home in his head
He would have better used, the book and the pen”
Peeling the label from the brown bottle in his clutch
While staring at the now, but more likely looking back at his past
Said he could read “Walmart, ” “stop” and “yield” and the such
But the people around him, always found him out at last
Said he always got by doing menial jobs and hard labor
Raised a fine family by the sweat of his brow
But the one thing he lacked, and never would savor
Was to read to his kids, and in turn teach them how
The barmaid approached, my popcorn and ale on a tray
I paid my tab and placed my hand on his shoulder
I briefly told him of the many reading programs available today
And not let the desire to read, simply grow older
As I, with contented sigh, settled into my secluded, corner booth
Ready and eager to forage anew, through fictions and dominions
I glanced up before reading, and felt the pangs of a sad, somber truth
That my new friend had many hidden, and unknown companions
The plight of this man, and the too many just like him
Evoke pity and admiration, both in their turn
How sad to be locked in a non-reading prison
Oh what one can miss, when one fails to learn
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Father You, I And He
Yesterday, Today, Tummorrow
Was There I'll be here He'll be there
You gave me life, Life today I give, Tummorrow he'll be there.
You gave me love, Love I give him, Tummorrow He'll give love.
You bonded with me, Today I'm bonding, Tummorrow he'll be bonding.
You gave a home, Home I give him, Tummorrow he'll have a home.
You gave security, Security I give, Tummorrow he'll be secure.
You educate me, Education I give, Tummorrow He'll be one.
Father you were there
Yesterday
Father I am a Father
Today
Father he'll be a Father
Tummorrow
Father was a man of a man to be and a man that will be a Father.
Father the begining of creation, begining of the world.
A creation of man, men of generations generations of men to become Fathers of Fathers as seeds in a garden to harvest the world and to follow our Holy Father who was, who is, and who will always be your heavenly Father before all these Fathers are Fathers till the end of his creation of Fathers the Man.
Happy Fathers Day.
poem by sunny Munera Managan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Waiting on the edge of heaven
Fall asleep,
dream of me,
I'm just waiting on the edge of heaven.
Think of me,
adore me,
I'm just waiting on the edge of heaven.
Daydream of me,
smile for me,
I'm just waiting on the edge of heaven.
Write to me,
beautifully to me,
I'm just waiting on the edge of heaven.
Come and be with me,
come and love me,
I'm just waiting on the edge of heaven...
poem by Darlene Belcher
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!