Vanities
Was that a robot
claiming friendship
with the relics of past?
Or a quirk of a raw nerve
conversing with history:
and we will wait for centuries
to build a new scream
under the pale moon
in wingless night.
Whispering sex to flowers,
bees scrambled on the skin
of wooly leaves.
poem by Satish Verma
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Related quotes
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, frisking along;
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, bleating a song;
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, wearing fur-coat,
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, looking so bright!
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, eating green grass,
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, let me first pass,
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, grazing so nice,
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, what a surprise!
One of my first Children's Rhymes
poem by John Celes
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Percy The Robot
Percy the robot lives in the water
Percy the robot lies on the floor
Percy the robot runs on motor
Percy the robot goes for a walk
Percy the robot is on a lead
Percy the robot does not talk
Percy the robot cleans and cleans
Percy the robot never leaves....
The pool
poem by Harriet James
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A Love Bizarre
A B, A B C D
The moon up above, it shines down upon our skin
Whispering words that scream of outrageous sin
We all want the stuff that's found in our wildest dreams
It gets kinda rough in the back of our limousine
CHORUS:
That's what we are, we all want a love bizarre
That's what we are, we all want a love bizarre
A strawberry mind, a body that's built 4 2
A kiss on the spine, we do things we never do
Come swallow the pride and joy of the ivory tower
We'll dance on the roof, make love on a bed of flowers
CHORUS
The moon up above, it shines down upon our skin
(It shines down... on... our... skin)
Whispering words that scream of outrageous sin
(Whispering words that scream of... scream of sin)
We all want the stuff that's found in our wildest dreams
(We all want the stuff that's found in our wildest... wildest dreams, yeah)
It gets kinda rough in the back of our limousine
CHORUS
That's what we are, we all want a love bizarre
(A strawberry mind, a body that's built 4 2, me and U)
That's what we are, we all want a love bizarre
(A kiss on the spine, we do things we never do)
(Yeah)
CHORUS {x4}
What we are, what we are, a love bizarre {x2}
What we are (What we are), what we are (what we are)
A love bizarre (A love bizarre)
CHORUS {repeated til end}
Yeah, yeah, yeah!
Ah yeah! {x3
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Virginal Soul
She mystically changes
Like night from day;
And in the instance
Of her sashay sway
Moving into another view,
I cannot recognize her face.
There were times in the past
When I could have lost my mind
Simply gazing into her eyes
But now they transport me to a different universe
Without any concept of time.
Everything about her is dark and mysterious
Like trying to solve a riddle in the rain
While the world vanishes with history
Leaving only spiritual destiny to obtain.
Her skin becomes pale and ghostlike
But somehow it makes her even more handsome;
How was I not alerted to follow
This virginal soul centuries before?
poem by Uriah Hamilton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Robot Parade
In a future time
Children will work together
To build a giant cyborg.
Robot Parade.
Robot Parade.
Wave the flags that
The robots made.
Robot Parade.
Robot Parade.
Robots obey what
The children say.
There's electric cars,
There's electric trains,
Here comes a robot with
Elecrtric brains.
Robot Parade.
Robot Parade.
Wave the flags that
The robots made.
Robot Parade.
Robot Parade.
Robots obey what
The children say.
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lasso The Moon
She carries the water from the well in the morning
While the sand burns her feet the sun only stares
And the loneliness lingers with slow grasping fingers
As the afternoon withers the flowers in her hair
Then night fills the sky as she sits on the hillside
And memories drift by like clouds past the stars
Recalling romances and all the bright chances
But none of them lasted. they passed through her heart
And she says -
Where is a man who can build a good fire
With a passion as wide as the sky at high noon
A man whose hand is strong as his longing
Where is the man who can lasso the moon
She falls asleep and her dreams are her blanket
And she shares with the moon the secret she knows
As the dawn leaves its tears to wash the dry valley
The tears of a woman can wash a mans soul
And she says -
Where is a man who can build a good fire
With a passion as wide as the sky at high noon
A man whose hand is strong as his longing
Where is the man who can lasso the moon
And she says -
Where is a man who can build a good fire
With a passion as wide as the sky at high noon
A man whose hand is strong as his longing
Where is the man who can lasso the moon
And I say -
I am a man who can build a good fire
And my passions as wide as the sky at high noon
Come take my hand, its as strong as your longing
Just say the word and Ill lasso the moon
song performed by by Level 42
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Little Garden
A little garden on a bleak hillside
Where deep the heavy, dazzling mountain snow
Lies far into the spring. The sun's pale glow
Is scarcely able to melt patches wide
About the single rose bush. All denied
Of nature's tender ministries. But no, --
For wonder-working faith has made it blow
With flowers many hued and starry-eyed.
Here sleeps the sun long, idle summer hours;
Here butterflies and bees fare far to rove
Amid the crumpled leaves of poppy flowers;
Here four o'clocks, to the passionate night above
Fling whiffs of perfume, like pale incense showers.
A little garden, loved with a great love!
poem by Amy Lowell
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Tut-Ench-Amon (Tutankhamen)
Been and seen down flight from chicago
All aboard the African Queen
I am on a night boat down to cairo
Feeling like a tourist with a foreign man abroad
Tells it like he thinks it is, but I know he is fraud
There is a map tucked under his shoulder
and a cap perched on his head
If he looked any older, he might as well be dead
Dressed in army surplus the files around me swarm
On a mission without a purpose, I wish I'd never been born
By the light of a pale moon - Tutankhamen
Half past high noon - Tutankhamen
Put you in the picture - 1884
I'm up to date on the literature
but I have never been here before
There is a black boy on the corner trailing me behind
Stalking like a vulture money on his mind
In the shadow of the giant sphinx the archeological tale
Before the eastern sun sinks I'll be learning braille
By the light of a pale moon - Tutankhamen
Half past high noon - Tutankhamen
They are playing our tune - Tutankhamen
Half past high noon - Tutankhamen
By the light of a, light of a pale moon - Tutankhamen
Half past high noon - Tutankhamen
By the light of a pale moon - Tutankhamen
Half past high noon - Tutankhamen
song performed by by Falco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Catching The Devil And Putting Her In Jail
you know how it feels
when the devil is caught and
shown in such a lowly state
of tangled hair
pale skin
emaciated body
depressed state
you feel like you
are the new king of
that invisible throne
when you look outside
the window of
your house
you see a greener grass
all flowers bloom
and bees busy with
nectar
even if
it is still winter time
even if the night
is so cold
and you are trembling
when victory sets in
the ugly world
becomes nothing at
all.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Child Remembers His Mother's Death...
She passed one full moon night...
Don't ask me the day...when it was...
Long from now...
A vague remembrance...of charcoal burning...burning slow anxious pain...
It was one full moon night...
When I had not slept...it was the first night before which, sleep had taken me in her warm feathers...
Where she fled from that night...
My eyes o’er the sleepless stars...
Sought her return...
The night when fear was known to me...
The greatest fears of all...
Fear of losing...
It was one full moon night...
Don't ask me the day
I had grown in a night...
My amuse...
She passed and I just looked...
And looked
Passed to where...
Know I not...
Full moon night ‘t was...
Like today...
Its consistent routines...
Slipped she to irregular tracks..
Past pale radiance
Pale radiance to shine o’er faint nostalgia...
(Woke from innocent carelessness...
To what...I amused... it was uncomfortable...awkward...just too bad to be real.)
poem by Lama Abbas
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To A Friend,
WHO SENT ME FLOWERS, WHEN CONFINED BY
ILLNESS.
WHILE sickness still my step detains
From scenes where vernal pleasure reigns,
Where Spring has bath'd with dewy tear
The blossoms of the op'ning year;
To soothe confinement's languid hours,
You send a lavish gift of flowers,
Midst whose soft odours mem'ry roves
O'er all the images she loves.
Not long their sweetness shall prevail,
Their rosy tints shall soon be pale,
Yet fancy in their fading hues
No emblem of our friendship views;
Its firm fidelity shall last,
When all the flowers of spring are past;
And when life's summer shall be o'er,
That summer which returns no more,
Still friendship, with perennial bloom,
Shall soften half the winter's gloom!
poem by Helen Maria Williams
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Let's Walk Through This Garden
Come, my beloved, let us walk through this garden
Where lots of bees enchanting with the nature
Life of bees has got the life in the heaven
And placed it on the peach and citrus tree
Let us follow the footprint of those bees
Who has walked miles over the mountain?
The mountain to draw nectar high above the cool plain
Let us go into the fields, my beloved,
For the time of those who left to harvest
Seed of love has sowed into this garden
As the spirit nourishes the grain of joy with love in burden
Let us hear the melodies of the wind touch the wings
Let's sit beside this flower and pursue their exchange of the sweetness of kisses.
Let us go into the next field, my beloved,
Let's us not fill our heart with joy of sadness
Bees are yet to shed tears for those who have already lost their heavies
Under the forced of the whispering wind
Let us tend the bloom of the earth
Let us make the flowers our happiest heaven
Let us relax after the day's toil,
And listen to the murmur of the provoke bees
Rather parting with old acquaintance.
Oh! Let us return to our dwelling, my beloved!
For the wind has caused the yellow leaves to fall;
And shroud the withering flower that whisper elegy to the bees
Come my beloved, come close to me since nature has just wearied
And bidding her enthusiasm farewell.
With quiet and content sorrow
Come close to me beloved; come too closed to me.
Let us speak glory of our heart,
For that is greater than the sorrow of the bees
Lost her heaves in the flower garden
Under the force of the merciless whispering wind.
poem by Kezang Dawa
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black as night, Elvyra
Watch out they'll say,
she'll come and get you,
black as night Elvyra,
will take your soul,
leaving you with nothing,
you'll never see another,
as dark and souless as her,
you wait and see,
i know what they'll say of me,
black as night Elvyra
They'll say she dances,
with the devil,
that she plays with fire,
that black as nite Elvyra,
you wait and see,
i know what they'll say of me,
Black as night Elvyra
look at her they'll say,
how dark with doom and gloom,
black as night elvyra,
look at her face,
pale as pale,
her black lips,
her black eyes too,
you wait and see,
i know what they'll say of me,
Black as night Elvyra
skinny and pale they'll say,
with raven black hair to opose,
Black as night Elvyra,
she knows your secrets,
whispers from your depths,
watch out for me,
you wait and see,
I'm Black as night Elvyra
poem by Jess Terry
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Color of Skin
Today we celebrate and cheer.
We all scream today a new era begins.
But wait and ask ourselves has the past really come to an end.
Are we cheering because hope is on the rise?
Or are we cheering just because the color of the man.
and if the latter the dream has yet to come.
Because we did not elect because of content of his charter
most of us voted just because the color of his skin.
Those who are Caucasian mostly voted because it is now
fashionable to be liberal, and us who are black vote mainly
because of the color of his skin.
So as you're cheering saying the dream has come true
understand in order for the dream to be true we all
must see past the color of our own skin.
The Fifth Loner
Starting in the eyes, the dreams
end underfoot,
there the river lies still without the bridge.
It'd take centuries to build the muddy path
walking with the air and wind;
Time goes beyond me
And I am the solitary voyager
far behind you;
Holding on to the residual stores
of my life,
I wait for the moment standing
on the farthest point of the expansion
when the universe shrinks back.
The shadow of the night gets
terrified seeing the pointed
flame of the lamp.
The pavilion of the sky looks small, and
the light is more abundant than my heart.
But, the distances
are not longer than the
circles of the dreams;
In the divine seasons
when the stars blossom
like flowers; and
the butterflies flit around
the sun-fire, then
your moon like phizog
will appear on the
branches of the eternal dusk
If you have the spirit
to last and wait,
then, with a new pact
of the rudiments
I will come for you!
Poem by: Naseer Ahmed Nasir,1994.
Translated from Urdu into English by Bina Biswas
Copyrights (C) All rights reserved.
poem by Naseer Ahmed Nasir
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Falling Asleep
Voices moving about in the quiet house:
Thud of feet and a muffled shutting of doors:
Everyone yawning. Only the clocks are alert.
Out in the night there’s autumn-smelling gloom
Crowded with whispering trees; across the park
A hollow cry of hounds like lonely bells:
And I know that the clouds are moving across the moon;
The low, red, rising moon. Now herons call
And wrangle by their pool; and hooting owls
Sail from the wood above pale stooks of oats.
Waiting for sleep, I drift from thoughts like these;
And where to-day was dream-like, build my dreams.
Music ... there was a bright white room below,
And someone singing a song about a soldier,
One hour, two hours ago: and soon the song
Will be ‘last night’: but now the beauty swings
Across my brain, ghost of remembered chords
Which still can make such radiance in my dream
That I can watch the marching of my soldiers,
And count their faces; faces; sunlit faces.
Falling asleep ... the herons, and the hounds....
September in the darkness; and the world
I’ve known; all fading past me into peace.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
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Its Morning
Its morning
Sun rising
Moon hiding
Birds chirping
Flowers blooming
Eyes opening
Many waking
Many sleeping
Dew on the leaves
Evaporating
Bees humming
Church bell ringing
Silence going
Noise increasing
Life keeps moving
Like ever before
Night or morning
Same story again
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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The Gods! The Gods!
People were bathing and posturing themselves on the beach,
and all was dreary, great robot limbs, robot breasts,
robot voices, robot even the gay umbrellas.
But a woman, shy and alone, was washing herself under a tap and the glimmer of the presence of the gods was like
lilies, and like water-lilies.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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Please Don't Say Any Word
what happened during the night was strictly between us
let the stars and the moon be our witnesses
when the morning comes with a break of some news
let that be not about us
please do not say any word for the birds and the flowers
these things are matters of the bees
let not even the ants know or the earthworms
or the snails and the clams of the rivers and seas
please do not say any word, It is enough that both of us
keep the secrets of our past joys and present pains
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Bee-Boy's Song
Bees! Bees! Hark to your bees!
"Hide from your neigbours as much as you please,
But all that has happened, to us you must tell,
Or else we will give you no honey to sell!"
A maiden in her glory,
Upon her wedding - day,
Must tell her Bees the story,
Or else they'll fly away.
Fly away -- die away --
Dwindle down and leave you!
But if you don't deceive your Bees,
Your Bees will not deceive you.
Marriage, birth or buryin',
News across the seas,
All you're sad or merry in,
You must tell the Bees.
Tell 'em coming in an' out,
Where the Fanners fan,
'Cause the Bees are just about
As curious as a man!
Don't you wait where the trees are,
When the lightnings play,
Nor don't you hate where Bees are,
Or else they'll pine away.
Pine away -- dwine away --
Anything to leave you!
But if you never grieve your Bees,
Your Bees'll never grieve you.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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