If Every Time of the Day Has a Poem of Its Own
If every time of the day
Has a poem of its own
This afternoon too should long
To say something about itself-
But as it stretches its slow length too long
As it makes heat and light one long unending discomfort,
This afternoon says only
That even the time of day
Cannot mean much
If one does not have something
Outside oneself
To say in it.
All heat and light are emptiness now
And the overwhelming shape of brightness
Is nothing more than the stunned silence
One fears when one wakes from a bad dream
In the middle of the day and night.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Afternoon Tea
Tea time wont be the same without my donna
At night I lie awake and dream of donna
I think about that small cafe
Thats where we used to meet each day
And then we used to sit a while
And drink our afternoon tea
Ill take afternoon tea (afternoon tea)
If you take it with me (afternoon tea)
You take as long as you like
cause I like you, girl
I take sugar with tea (afternoon tea)
You take milk if you please (afternoon tea)
Like you talking to me
Because you ease my mind
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Tea time still aint the same without my donna
At night I lie awake and dream of donna
I went to our cafe one day
They said that donna walked away
Youd think at least she might have stayed
To drink her afternoon tea
Ill take afternoon tea (afternoon tea)
If you take it with me (afternoon tea)
You take as long as you like
cause I like you, girl
I take afternoon tea (afternoon tea)
Every day of the week (afternoon tea)
Please come along if you like
Because I like you, girl
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Afternoon Poem Is Rare
AN AFTERNOON POEM IS RARE
An Afternoon Poem is rare-
Afternoon is long after the first light-
Afternoon is a time of heaviness and quiet
A time of rest-
Afternoon is after the morning work has been done-
Afternoon is the weight of the day-
Afternoon is the time after the day has lost its freshness-
Still there must be afternoon poems-
There must be a beauty that emerges
In its own way,
Perhaps from where lovers meet
Perhaps from ‘ripeness is all’
Perhaps from the anticipation of evening
Perhaps from winter where it is the warmest time of day.
There must be afternoon poems-
Poems that celebrate all that warmth can bring-
Poems of rest poems of sleep-
Poems of waiting to believe
That in the evening
A new day and a new world
Will make life easier again.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Late Afternoon Is Heat
THE LATE AFTERNOON IS HEAT
The late afternoon is heat
The poem is far away
The day has yet to begin
I am old
Time mocks me with another small smile at its passing.
I do not know where I am going
And what I will be
And how I will die.
But I will die
And in much less time
Than I have already lived.
Late afternoon
The heat
My tiredness
The silence
This poem
Tonight will be Shabbat
Another day will begin
Time mocks me with its passing
And blesses me with each moment I still live.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Long Afternoon Became Longer
THE LONG AFTERNOON BECAME LONGER
The long afternoon became longer-
Time had no end and boredom also-
We all know it will eventually pass
But in the middle we are marooned waiting
Without any idea whatsoever of what to do-
I write these lines because I know
Boredom too has its beauty-
And waiting for nothing also its dream-
And out of nowhere there may come
Long into the long afternoon
Far after all the work is done and nothing remains
While waiting is still going on
A small poem to break the monotony
And give meaning back to life.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Poem of the Afternoon
THE POEM OF THE AFTERNOON
The poem of the afternoon
Long and drawn out
Does not know why it is written
And what its true name is.
It does not ask or answer
Remember or remain
It simply appears
And disappears
As if its writing
Were yet
One more way of
Just being in the world
And passing its light.
The poem of the afternoon
Does not know why it is
Or why it should be
But now that it is here
It looks out at the trees
Through the sun of its pages
And prepares itself to be read and reread
As if someone somewhere
Searches and sees it.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Poem That Comes After The Afternoon Nap
THE POEM THAT COMES AFTER THE AFTERNOON NAP
The poem that comes after the afternoon nap
Wakes the world
Is clear
Understands
Hears the answers to problems
It could not see before.
The poem that comes after the afternoon nap
Is a clear- minded Poem
A Poem of light
A Poem without fear
A happy Poem.
It has the answer
To the question
Yesterday asked
And tomorrow may make questionable again
A happy poem
Now.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Morning Poem Did Not Come
THE MORNING POEM DID NOT COME
The morning poem did not come-
So this is the effort of an afternoon poem,
Warm and sun- filled and relaxing and deep and waiting.
This is a poem between times more interesting than itself.
The light is so great now.
But this too is a poem of little or nothing to say
Of afternoon emptiness after morning emptiness
On a tired tired day.
Once I thought I would write poems which would make immortal
Those I love.
Now I write poems to keep myself going.
This afternoon I am extremely tired
But if this is poem
Or even if I only think it is
I can have a rest
Before I face the evening.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Thought To Begin The Day With A Poem
I THOUGHT TO BEGIN THE DAY WITH A POEM
I thought to begin the day with a poem
But inside myself I hear only my own slow emptiness
Word by word I try to hear
And there is some small motion now
But still
A real poem
A poem of beauty
A poem of light
A poem of love
A poem that makes the dreamer long to dream-
And the lover long to love-
A poem that moves-
Well it is very very dark outside
And the world straining to give
Small rain to a dry land
Seems to say,
‘There may be a poem today
But it is not the poem you dream
Not the poem others will love
As you have loved
True poetry.’
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Poem Of The Afternoon
Poem of the afternoon
What do you have to say for yourself?
You are tired and you want a nap
But it’s too late for a nap
We must be going-
Poem of the afternoon
Say something different
Say life is wonderful
On a warm day after many cold ones
Say life is wonderful
When you can still walk and talk and move about
Though you are older than you ever thought you’d be-
Poem of the afternoon
Cloudy and a bit sunny
Say the night is still a certain way off
And the day the long day is still happily with us.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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In the long night
In the long night
The long, long night
How bright
The light of passion shines!
The summer heat
How obstinate
It is:
Yet in the night
The long, long night
How bright
The light of passion shines!
And winter frost
And neighing wind
Behind the window panes
And doors:
And the shrill call
Of nightingales
In Spring:
No difference will make:
For
In the long, long night
How bright
The light of passion shines!
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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A Long Time Gone
Seems like forever and time left to spare
When I look out the window
And still youre not there
Youre a long time gone
Such a long time gone
Tearing down memories bitter and sweet
Smashing away til its all obsolete
Youre a long time gone, long time gone
Such a long time gone, long time gone
Youre a long time gone
Do I wonder why
Every day that i
Think about you still
And I always will
Did so much for me
Now I think I see
This I do believe
Feels more like a dream
Looked at the weeds in the broken concrete
Before the bulldozers waltzed in and killed the old street
Youre a long time gone, long time gone
Such a long time gone, long time gone
Door steps that shone in a bright summer sky
Lay shattered and wasted since our last goodbye
Youre a long time gone, long time gone
Such a long time gone, long time gone
Youre a long time gone
Do I wonder why
Every day that i
Think about you still
And I always will
Youre a long time gone
Did so much for me
Now I think I see
This I do believe
Feels more like a dream
Youre a long time gone
Do I wonder why
Youre a long time gone
You never did
I never said goodbye
Youre a long time gone
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Its Been A Long Long Time
Its been a long time...
Since I held you tight.
Its been a long time...
Everyday in this fight.
Its been a long...long...time.
Its been a long time...
Since I've had a kiss.
Its been a long time...
You're pretty blue eyes I miss.
Its been a long...long...time.
Its been a long time...
This Iraqi tour.
Its been a long time...
I miss you so and more.
Its been a long...long...time.
Its been a long time...
Hot days with freezing nights.
Its been a long time...
Sunburned face, mosquito bites.
Its been a long...long...time.
Its been a long time...
Had a real bad day.
Its been a long time...
Lost some soldiers today.
Its been a long...long...time.
Its been a long time...
I suffer everyday.
Its been a long time...
For me to be away.
Its been a long...long...time.
Its been a long time...
For me to be alone.
Its been a long time...
No talking on the telephone.
Its been a long...long...time.
Its been a long time...
Since you heard me say...
Baby, my sweet darling...
I'm leaving Iraq today!
poem by Philip Lore
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Not Always Is The Music Heard Inside
Not always is the music heard inside-
Not always do the poems come-
Tiredness and emptiness are often silence,
And ‘wanting' a poem is not enough
To make a poem come-
Still if one listens long enough
If one really waits to hear
If one trusts oneself and one's own inner song,
In time
There will be again some hint of beauty
That needs to be expressed-
For those who live in poetry
And for those who bear it with them
Wherever they go,
The poem will come eventually
If God gives it.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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An Evening Poem
AN EVENING POEM
An evening poem
Waits for deeper darkness
A night poem knows blackness
As home.
A morning poem is light
An afternoon poem is thick with heat.
All times have a poem
And all seasons poems also
All lives are poems
And all stories also.
We all are and all know poems
Poems pervade us
And the universe.
It is night now
But when the morning comes
Its poem will overshadow now.
What a brave new world it is
With so many poems in it
And what a life-
With such deep sadness
Waiting forever to be unexpressed.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Do
Written by christine mcvie and eddie quintela.
Oh my mind is made up about you
Now and always
Though the seasons come and they go
Nothing will ever change
Well I took a little chance
And I laid my heart down
I thought youd be the one
Who would always stick around
I took a little time
Though I knew it would be
That we had a date with destiny
Well out of the darkness
And out of the long black night
You have given me heart, yes
And you showed me the light
And I do, I do
I love you for what you are
Well this heart of mine
I know it so well
There are so many strange stories
That I could tell
Many is a time
I went out on a limb
You reached out for me baby
And you brought me back again
A lot of stormy nights
Ive seen many a full moon, but darling
This is love in the afternoon
Well out of the darkness
And out of the long black night
You have given me heart, yes
And you showed me the light
And I do, I do
I love you for what you are
So out of the darkness
And out of the long black night
You have given me heart, yes
And you showed me the light
And I do, I do
I love you for what you are
Yes I love you for what you are
I love you for what you are
I do love you for what you are
Yes I do love you for what you are...
song performed by by Fleetwood Mac
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Somewhere From The Silence I Hear A Poem
Somewhere from the Silence I hear a poem
And it soothes and calms me
And teaches me now
How beautiful these quiet days are
Long after the war has been done
And the wounds have been healed
And calm has returned
Somewhere long after the battle has ended
And the rest time comes
A dream returns
Of living again
Of going out to face the world
As if for the first time
In the long long silence
After the war
Life can begin again.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Three Times Of Prayer Each Day
THREE TIMES OF PRAYER EACH DAY
My poems are more of morning than of night-
And of afternoon least of all.
The first light is hope
And the darkness needs help.
But who knows how to define
The long struggle of the afternoon
In which we live so much of our life?
It is morning again
And who knows what this day will bring?
And what the times of life will require?
But the light of the day is already here
So let us try to begin again.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Twentyfour Hours
Morning skies of blue,
morning drops of dew,
some overhead,
some beneath my feet,
They both come into view.
Afternoon sun so bright,
afternoon heat so white,
some on my skin
how I feel it burn.
It makes me welcome the night.
Evening sounds I hear,
evening sounds appear
when all is quiet,
no noise of the day
is there to interfere.
Peaceful dark of night,
peaceful with no light.
Nothing overhead
tucked up in my bed,
I've nothing but dreams in my sight.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Me So Horny Edited
Oh, so horny....ohh, so horny....ohh, so horny.
Me love you long time.
Oh, so horny....ohh, so horny....ohh, so horny.
Me love you long time.
Me, so horny....so, so horny...me, so horny.
Me love you long time.
Me, so horny....so, so horny... me, so horny....
Me love you long time.
Sittin at home watchin arsinio hall, so I got my black book for a freak to call.
Picked up the telephone and dialed the seven digits.
Said yo this is marquis baby, are you down with it?
I arrived at her house, knocked on the door.
Not having no idea of what the night had in store.
Im like a dog in heat, a freak without warning.
I have an appetite for love cause me so horny.
Oh, me so horny....ohh, me so horny...oh, me so horny.
Me love you long time.
Oh, me so horny....oh, so, so horny....oh, me so horny.
Me love you long time
Girls always ask me why I buck so much.
I say whats wrong baby doll, with being a mutt?
cause my nature is rising and you shouldnt be mad.
I wont tell your momma if you dont tell your dad.
I know hell be disgusted when he sees your clothes all messed up.
Wont your momma be so mad if she knew youve just been had.
Im a freak in heat, a dog without warning.
My appetite is love, cause me so horny.
Oh, so horny....ohh, so horny...oh, so horny.
Me love you love time.
Oh, so horny....oh, so, so horny....oh, so horny.
Me love you long time
You can say Im desperate.
Even call me perverted, but youll say Im a dog when I leave you lost and deserted.
Ill play witcha your heart and will show no shame.
Ill be blowin your mind cuase youre lame to the game.
Im just like that man they call georgie puddin pie.
Ill break their girls hearts and I make them cry.
Im like a dog in heat, a freak without warning.
I have an appetite for love cause me so horny.
Oh, so horny....ohh, so, so horny....oh, so horny.
Me love you long time
Oh, so horny....oh, so, so horny....oh, so horny.
Me love you long time
Ohh, so horny....ohh, h so horny....oh, so horny.
Ohh, so, so horny....ohh, so horny.
Me love you long time
Its true you were alone until you met me.
I was the first to dress you up and made you sexy.
You tell your parents that were going out.
Never to the movies, just straight to my house.
You said it yourself. you like it like I do.
Put your arms around me and squeez me too.
Im a freak in heat, a dog without warning.
I have an appetite for love cause me so horny.
Oh, me so horny....ohh, so so horny....oh, me so horny.
Me love you long time
Oh, me so horny....ohh, so so horny....oh, me so horny.
Me love you long time.
song performed by by 2 Live Crew
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When Tree Branches Rub Against The Roof
When tree branches rub against the roof
the small bulbul runs past
during the afternoon hour
to the pool where it dives and rolls,
stretches out wings and shoot them out straight,
walking boldly up and down
stretches out wings,
stretches out wings
as he walks to and thro.
When tree branches rub against the roof
a light breeze blows,
while the sun burns hot as fire
and the neighbouring child calls
when the afternoon comes with its peace,
with thoughts from the past
when the afternoon comes,
when the afternoon comes
and sometimes I forget the present.
When tree branches rub against the roof
birds peck around everywhere
while moments are lingering
as leaves blow to the ground,
and I think of God as if He is here,
while the shades bring a kind of tranquillity
and I think of God
and I think of God
and find some deeper meaning to life.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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