Unphrasing
in love with vermilion
floating on optics
you learn in moments of insult
or insults in moment of learning
fishless bones
still he smels of withering pain
on black satin
you don’t want to suffer
with asterisks
annotation
disfigurs the essence
i will boil the moon
to find the separateness
between scent and grief
i am done
the poem is over
death has walked away
poem by Satish Verma
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Related quotes
Insult Upon Injury
Insult!
How do you feel when a woman insults you oh man?
Insult!
How do you feel when a man insults you oh woman?
Insult!
How do you feel when your wife insults you?
Insult!
How do you feel when your husband insults you?
Insult!
How do you feel when a child insults you?
Insult upon injury! !
But the jury is here at last to stay on this case.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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20th December
When your boyfriend insults you what will you do?
When your girlfriend insults you what will you do?
When your husband insults you what will you do?
When your wife insults you what will you do?
Of the way of life that goes on like this at times;
But who the cup fits must surely wear it.
I am a teacher on this love,
But at times i am being insulted by my students;
And that makes me learn better daily,
Because the road of life is crooked at times.
20th December,
Of the insult that i received from you as my lover;
Then i stopped to think for a while,
Why should i hear these words from you?
Oh life,
How hard it is for some people to change;
And, you cannot satisfy everybody on this earth.
Yes, whatever you do people will talk about you;
Whether in a positive way or a negative way.
20th December!
Of a call so close to me than your muse;
But my heart will lead me on always with my patience.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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A Superstition About A Black Butterfly
if it is a brown butterfly that flutters inside
the house
we have reasons to be glad
for it means money
if it is a black butterfly we better prepare
for it means death
sorrow, lament
last night the moon was full and it was floating
on the clouds
the sky was so dark the distant star in contrast
flickers like a firefly full of life
i have seen Venus, the neighboring planet
i keep the joy of light
there came a black butterfly
inside the room passing through the window
while you were sleeping
the light of the moon was all over you
i have seen death
it is inside me this love fading like a faint light
like that most distant star
losing the essence of its light
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Meaning Beside Me
In time warp, to find
the fell of a dark moon
my thoughts bring out a birthday gift.
The first step in fog
discovers the sharp edge
of kindness.
Who will believe
this black and white,
suicide of a sage?
Newborn roses and dahlias
speak through
the nothingness of fear.
I just saw the face of death
floating on a pond.
Ashes and bones out of the urn.
poem by Satish Verma
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Flames Of Song
Tonight moon will write a poem
on my hand
about an almond love.
I find a breeze.
Nightmare: I was caught stealing words
from your lips, a lark
flies into death, paralyzed
by peace!
I will have the baby, I cried
at the insult to a rape
of truth, after the brawl
Pyramid was not made in a day.
Who slept in the arms of ambers?
Look, it was an atomic illusion of a guilt
of centuries. Time walks with bowed head
like a blind man.
Baked brown in heat of wars like
a salted pistachio, perched high on dry
grass, a swallow watches the rising
lake with no stones floating.
poem by Satish Verma
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I Walked And Walked
I walked and walked
And thought,
‘Maybe I'll find a poem in walking'
I walked and walked and walked-
No Poem.
But then I thought,
‘Maybe the walk is the poem'
All around me worlds of things
Green and bright,
A good day after all-
Maybe the walk is the poem
And the writing it down,
The stopping to listen.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Lavender Essence
Lavender essence-
Breathes the night air;
Enchanting velvet whispers-
O' moonlight...
Magical moments-
In true loves design;
Lavender essence-
Delicate and refined;
Spreads aromas-
'Cross the sods dales-
Purple coloured tint-
Satin-like veil;
Covers the sod-
With her springtime renewel;
The fragrance of flowers-
Gods most beloved crowned jewels...
This poem of mine can be viewed:
On: The Inner Shaman's
Lavender Apothocary
August 2,2009
poem by Theodora Onken
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Reality Bites
reality has a picture
an old one, still black and white
for which i have
this love-hate relationship
of keeping it and
then throwing it away
again
reality has a way of showing me
that i cannot escape
and here i am as always
visiting it alone when no one is watching
we are friends finally
and we keep secrets
reality knows how to keep this secret
this Sphinx of my mind
that black bird with strong wings that
can fly away whenever it likes
to
and stay on top of the situation
saying:
' i can manage the weight
of silence'
reality this venomous snake that bites
me and can kill me
even
but through time i have taken much
dose by
dose
teeth to
teeth
and so
i gained this immunity
of death and pain
'we get attuned
to heat'
the desert has this
wisdom
somehow
reality is skin to my bones and flesh
or bones and blood
wrapped in sealed
epidermic containers
i have all the options for lying like the other woman
next door
and then suffer
and then be too unhappy
or just
be the happiest man
for the moment
two faces, day and night
when we get older we know what is this all about
and it is not even worth mentioning at all
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Poem Is Just A Poem
a poem is just a poem and if it is just a poem
it must be just a poem just like another poem
a poem is nothing but just a poem otherwise
it cannot be my poem; it may speak about
anything, or something, or about everything,
but my poem is just a poem just like anybody's
poem, which is just but a poem, like any other
poem, for a poem to be a poem it must just be
a poem: it has nothing to do with my love, and death
my life, or bliss, but as i have told you, once, twice
thrice, eat some rice, and be that wise, a poem is
just a poem, just like your poem. Why do you insist
on asking, what is happening to me? I am not a
poem, for i am but just the composer of the poem,
need i tell you again, that a poem is just a poem?
just like any other poem, which is just a poem
it is just a voice in my head that i have heard
someone comes and speaks and i listen so
this poem is not actually my poem but the poem
of someone else's: theirs not mine, from a mind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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This is a poem....
This isn't a poem of one direction,
This is a poem about perfection.
This isn't a poem about who won the election,
This is a poem about correction.
This isn't a poem of getting it right,
This is a poem of standing up to fight.
This isn't a poem of being lost like a kite,
This is a poem about trying to find the light.
This isn't a poem of running tears,
This is a poem about chasing your fears.
This isn't a poem of love and hate,
This is a poem of destiny and fate.
This isn't a poem of the end,
This is a poem of a heart unable to mend.
This isn't a poem of cruilty and pain,
This is a poem of a thng i need to gain.
This isn't a poem of shame,
This is a poem of fame.
Thsi isn't a poem of the life i let loose,
THIS IS A POEM OF THE TRUTH.
poem by Tammie LilAimo
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This Poem
THIS POEM
This poem
This first poem
This last poem
This poem that invented Poetry
This one and only one poem
This fictional poem
This ideal poem
This perfect poem
This would – be holy poem
This unreal poem
This poem which is not a poem
This poem which is the essence of all poetry
This poem
And that poem
And my poem
And your poem
And all poems
Poem poem poem poem poem
This poem
Mine and yours
This one small poem of so so many
And not such a good poem at all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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4b
one cannot iron out
air perhaps you may
cover out a
delineation with
some euphemisms
denial does not
lead you
to light you are like
the moon
wanting to conceal
its pain
in those dark nights
only to
suffer efflorescence
as the
frogs worship it
as goddess
chanting throughout
the rain
sorrow too is
like gold
one cannot hide in
mud
each moment is
gleam
pain glimmers
like a star in
that indifferent sky
amidst the flow of
black wings
the moon is
carried on....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Learning Well Life's Lesson The Real Way
a virtual heart
a second hand experience
of love and pain
and half-deaths from time to time
you call this learning
and you like it
because you stand at a certain distance
and tell yourself
that is enough for me
and then you
leave
and face another world out there
not feeling well
what you have just seen
bloodily
from a fence
and a thin wall
it is different when you bleed yourself
when the wound in your face
tells your eyes
this is it!
when the pain that seeps to your bones
tell your heart
this is it!
when the shattered pieces of your bones rattle and shout at you
this is it!
when the gaping skin sliced by a thin, sharp knife
tells you on the face
bloody hell! this is the pain!
and it is with you sticking on your palm
wherever you go and then you cover your mouth and
say, 'Oh, My God! '
this is learning the hardest way
when it is you that is broken
and not someone else
when it is not another person's story
that you read one night beside your soft bed
and you cry
when you learn to use the word 'empathy'
or 'sympathy'
or the justification of the word
'internalization' about other people's
tragedies, their own miseries and laments
their drowning in the raging sea
their head and hands cut and eaten by unidentifiable sharks
while you watch the show on tv
as you eat your pie and drink your orange juice
and you see
and feel the 'mess of their lives' just like another hit movie
oh, this will be different now,
it is you
do not think or utter death as another word of the dictionary,
it will be different now,
it is you who is dying,
not someone else on the other hospital bed by the other window
then you begin to learn, how is it, what is it,
and how painful is it really. It is you now, baby.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sinner's Visit from Death
Whence the reek, the sombre clouds?
Those of billows gargantuan;
Of storms immense, blushing black,
Wishing sought of me to assess?
And have I passed? I have?
Hence I hear a knock on oak;
Unwelcomed, dullened cloak
Flowing dourly - it was a bitter breeze.
‘Have you mulled my sins? ' I ask.
‘Have you seen my impotence -
Though observe destruction at mine hands?
Forgive me, I am but Man.'
‘And are not sinners forgiven? ' I excuse,
‘Hence forgiveness avoids me of Hell?
Must my Demons of Sin revisit eternally
And reflect back on me to suffer well
The synergy of vengeance and wrath?
Are you not now pitying of my terror?
See my withering, regretful flesh -
Feel you not my tardy repentance? '
But Death just focused his stare,
That which pierced my pulseless heart,
For I was empty of remorse in all my years.
He knew that - and led me away.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
Death death death
Death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death
Death death death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Apprentice (part-time)
black satin wings learn silver
underneath the mid-day sun;
as inky pinions streak across the sky;
that azure sea.
and shimmer bright as diamond
til the sheen is quite undone
by passing cloud. then raven's back;
as black as he can be.
poem by Moon Batchelder
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Magic Moments
Magic moments happen in our lives
when we are kissed by an angel
under the moonlight.
A magic moment we cling on to,
just one of the many magic moments
our lives pass through.
The sweet scent of flowers that surround us
in the summer while love lingers in the air,
more magic moments there.
Magic moments that fill our lives with joy,
moments that rekindle love’s dying flame
making it burn strong again.
31 July 2008
poem by David Harris
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By the end of this...
By the end of this poem you will love death
because death is a figure of speech
as heaven and hell
to all that believe
they will be deceived
By the end of this stanza you will love death
you don't see death
he sees you
and who am I to say he?
he, she I don't know
My the end of this line you will love death
Death is your friend
when you are tired and sad
you can summon him
with the flick of a knife
by the end of this word you will love death
death is beautiful
don't deal with the pain
don't deny the beauty
don't sacrifice your life to living
something so insignificant
your ego will kill your pride
Now comes the truth
it was coming all along
Now at the end of this poem
...You love death
poem by Lady Viola Of The Grave
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He Was Acquainted With Grief
I cannot tell the sorrows that I feel
By the night's darkness, by the prison's gloom;
There is no sight that can the death reveal
The spirit suffers in a living tomb;
There is no sound of grief that mourners raise,
No moaning of the wind, or dirge-like sea,
Nor hymns, though prophet tones inspire the lays,
That can the spirit's grief awake in thee.
Thou too must suffer as it suffers here
The death in Christ to know the Father's love;
Then in the strains that angels love to hear
Thou too shalt hear the Spirit's song above,
And learn in grief what these can never tell,
A note too deep for earthly voice to swell.
poem by Jones Very
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Stolen Moments
Because you were stillborn my little niece
The moment of me holding you in my arms for the first time has been stolen.
I’ll never have that moment of hearing you say my name that moment has also been stolen.
I’ll never feel your sweet kisses on my cheek or your hugs around my neck more stolen moments.
A lot of the special moments we would have shared have been stolen.
But I want you to know the moment of me loving you my little sweet angel was not.
The moment I knew of you; you stole my heart.
I’ll love you in this moment and every moment for the rest of my life.
This poem is dedicate in memory to my little niece who I passed away today 3/1/08. She was stillborn
Whispering lips
when we touch each other the flower bloom,
the butterfly sip and the bees dance for
joy
when we hold our hands together, the moon
and star brighten the night
when we close our lips, near to our lips, the
minute of time becomes a moment of
everlasting memories
when we bring our two hearts in the altar of
matrimony, we forget our own identity and
learn to love, tell death do as part
when we share our victory that lives we
take and live is something to believe, we learn
to offer ourselves for us to grow
when we know that leaving is living with you,
till etenity brings, our lives learn to give
and share the best we can do
when we have a chance to meet again,
remember always that, i will always give my
whole life to you
when everything says goodbye.....my heart
will always treasure your soul, the essence of
your love is my destiny‘s end
poem by Antonio Liao
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