Blue Desert
hillocks molded ancient streams
(we stay on the trail)
at night blue is black
scorpions under the moon are not
i pick up one that curls
and stings me with old words
yelp and holler
the petrified woods ablaze
frozen in the flood of time
down some of those ancient streams
(they are dimly red)
holding clues to new life
and forgotten words
writing was always there
squeezed between flower and rock
and the men who came before us
saw the same hillocks
sharper in their time
touched the same poisons
hollered words forgotten
and dimly wondered about the past
poem by Stan Petrovich
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Ancient Words
Holy words long preserved
for our walk in this world,
They resound with God's own heart
Oh, let the Ancient words impart.
Words of Life, words of Hope
Give us strength, help us cope
In this world, where e'er we roam
Ancient words will guide us Home.
CHORUS:
Ancient words ever true
Changing me, and changing you.
We have come with open hearts
Oh let the ancient words impart.
Holy words of our Faith
Handed down to this age.
Came to us through sacrifice
Oh heed the faithful words of Christ.
Holy words long preserved
For our walk in this world.
They resound with God's own heart
Oh let the ancient words impart.
CHORUS x4
We have come with open hearts
Oh let the ancient words impart.
song performed by by Michael W. Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Show me
Show me the place
where we lived once
when the earth was still young,
before man’s hand
like a sickle went over it
and chopped until woods
disappeared totally
and deserts appeared in places.
Show me the fields, marches and hillocks
where animals at a time was carefree
before the rifle
sounded without end
and mines, factories, buildings
and rail tracts harassed the earth
and everything yielded
to steel and concrete.
Show me the blue sky
that at a time was pure
and now is full of smoke and ash
and water that fell sparkling
as rain from the air
and brought life
and could wash everything clean
and now eat
while it falls filled with acid.
Show me the streams and rivers
where at a time there were healthy fish
that could bring water to fields
and where children for the fun
could jump in
and now are filled with sewerage,
poisons, minerals
and garbage that drifts everywhere.
Show me seasons
that comes on their time
and now every day
is winter, summer and spring
while life
pass much too quickly
and the hand of man
for ever are mowing out the earth
and a day might come,
when the earth
becomes man’s own
place of damnation.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Streams Of Whiskey
Last night as I slept
I dreamt I met with behan
I shook him by the hand and we passed the time of day
When questioned on his views
On the crux of lifes philosophies
He had but these few clear and simple words to say
I am going, I am going
Any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
I have cursed, bled and sworn
Jumped bail and landed up in jail
Life has often tried to stretch me
But the rope always was slack
And now that Ive a pile
Ill go down to the chelsea
Ill walk in on my feet
But Ill leave there on my back
Because I am going, I am going
Any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
Oh the words that he spoke
Seemed the wisest of philosophies
Theres nothing ever gained
By a wet thing called a tear
When the world is too dark
And I need the light inside of me
Ill walk into a bar
And drink fifteen pints of beer
Iam going, I am going
Any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
I am going, I am going
Any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life Is An Adventure In Writing Words
Life is an adventure in writing words
It is going out alone and finding them
Beyond where the ordinary mind and life is
It is seeking them in difficult and strange places
And discovering the most complex and beautiful of them-
Life is an adventure in writing words
Sometimes simple
Sometimes with the words themselves forgotten
As thoughts pursued through them-
The adventure goes on
My mind goes on
My life goes on
Words go on
On and on and on and on
Until we stop.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Words
Words on this paper
Words in my head
Words while I'm texting
Computing
Unsaid
Words between people
Words on the phone
Words upon words
Even when I'm alone
Words from the Bible
I question
Don't mesh
Words from pornography
Making them flesh
Words with flat letters
Written in black
Good words and bad words
You cannot take back
Words that are shallow
Words that are deep
When they're too many
They put me to sleep
Words that I'm writing
And rhyming you read
Whatever I'm saying
There's prolly no need
Words from the alphabet
Words that can't be
When you are blind
And it's Braile that you see
Words that are worthless
And said on the fly
My words or your words
Are most likely lies
Words in a sentence
Wise words or fair
The only words earnest
Are those said in prayer
Written by Sara Fielder © 2011
poem by Sara Fielder
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Forgotten Son(Name Revised Hopefully Viewable)
Oh exiled angel,
oh the forgotten son,
please say your not the only one.
Its a sad life of loneliness we live in.
Have you given it your all?
Sacrifice after sacrifice.
Everyone has disappeared.
Oh exiled angel,
oh forgotten son,
please say your not the only one.
Dreams are broken.
Dreams are stolen.
Still you are standing here.
Holding on.
You are only so strong.
Baring your soul time after time,
just to see it fade,
lying in the wake of all those horrible mistakes.
Only true heart break is everlasting.
Oh exiled angel,
oh forgotten son,
please say your not the only one.
Not the only one.
How can this be?
A denied destiny.
Was it too much gluttony?
Was it all those stories you told were unfounded?
A lier in dire straights.
Everything is so complicated.
Oh exiled angel,
oh forgotten son,
please say your not the only one.
Your life has just begun.
Yet its already half over.
Were picking a four leaf clover.
One by one.
The leaves are gone.
Until theirs absolutely nothingness.
The black sun is what you've become.
Oh exiled angel,
oh forgotten son,
please say your not the only one.
Are you burning on the inside?
Is fire what ignites your desire?
Burn it all,
burn it all.
These thoughts run through your head.
Sometimes you feel better off dead.
Some words are best left unsaid.
Ignorance is bliss, till you reach the end of your existence.
Then you forever wonder what you missed.
It feels like another outer body experience.
Oh exiled angel,
oh forgotten son,
please say your not the only one,
not the only one.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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I Wrote Many New Poems Now Long Forgotten
I WROTE MANY POEMS NOW LONG FORGOTTEN
I wrote many poems now long forgotten
Why do I believe any poem I will write now
Or in the future
Is better than them?
I am a man lost in the world of his own words
And the only way out I know
Is writing more words
Which too are added on
To the unending pile of the forgotten.
Tell me where this poem too will be
When I am in the ground?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Praise Of Ysolt
In vain have I striven,
to teach my heart to bow;
In vain have I said to him
'There be many singers greater than thou'.
But his answer cometh, as winds and as lutany,
As a vague crying upon the night
That leaveth me no rest, saying ever,
'Song, a song.'
Their echoes play upon each other in the twilight
Seeking ever a song.
Lo, I am worn with travail
And the wandering of many roads hath made my eyes
As dark red circles filled with dust.
Yet there is a trembling upon me in the twilight,
And little red elf words crying, ‘A song',
Little grey elf words crying for a song,
Little brown leaf words crying, ‘A song',
Little green leaf words crying for a song.
The words are as leaves, old brown leaves in the spring time
Blowing they know not whither, seeking a song.
White words as snow flakes but they are cold,
Moss words, lip words, words of slow streams.
In vain have I striven
to teach my soul to bow,
In vain have I pled with him:
'There be greater souls than thou.'
For in the morn of my years there came a woman
As moonlight calling,
As the moon calleth the tides,
'Song, a song.'
Wherefore I made her a song and she went from me
As the moon doth from the sea,
But still came the leaf words, little brown elf words
Stying 'The soul sendeth us'.
'A song, a song!'
And in vain I cried unto them ‘I have no song
For she I sang of hath gone from me'.
But my soul sent a woman, a woman of the wonder-folk,
A woman as fire upon the pine woods
crying 'Song, a song'.
As the flame crieth unto the sap.
My song was ablaze with her and she went from me
As flame leaveth the embers so went she unto new forests '
And the words were with me
crying ever. 'Song, a song'.
And I 'I have no song',
Till my soul sent a woman as the sun:
Yea as the sun calleth to the seed,
As the spring upon the bough
So is she that cometh, the mother of songs,
She that holdeth the wonder words within her eyes
The words, little elf words
that call ever unto me,
'Song, a song'.
In vain have I striven with my soul
to teach my soul to bow.
What soul boweth
while in his heart art thou?
poem by Ezra Pound
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Small Time
small time, you call it small time
writing
is small time, there is no money
in writing, like a
politician, look at him, he does not
write, someone writes for him
and he gets the prize
the money
the pot
the jackpot
and look at you
you keep on writing
and writing
and writing
oh la la
poems, fit for a woman
her limited mind
her gullibility
her passion for words and words and words
her imagination
and look at you
poor man, poor, poor, poor
what you give
to this world, what are you giving to this world
it is not even a flower
just a poem for her, and you claim that you are winning her heart?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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After A Breakup, We Search For Words Again...
yes Priscilla
the words come mostly after a heartbreak
we look for them
in dimly lighted rooms
that do not offer us
sleep
in our restlessness
we dress up again
seeking some fun in the night
on those neon lights
we are actually looking for words
that sound like
herbs
as we still look for the
cure...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Three Little Words
Three words are spoken,
And then forgotten.
Three little words I wish to say,
But hold back the unknown.
My head is dizzy,
My eyes are blurry.
All I think about are,
Those three little words.
For now I will hide,
Those three little words.
Hoping one day,
I can tell him freely.
But those three little words,
Are ‘I love you.’
poem by Mariah Simpson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Haunts Of Ancient Peace
Beside the garden walls,
We walk in haunts of ancient peace.
At night we rest and go to sleep
In haunts of ancient peace.
The love and light we seek,
The words we do not need to speak,
Here in this wondrous way we keep
These haunts of ancient peace.
Let us go there again
When we need some relief
Oh, when I cant find my feet
When I need rest and sleep.
The sunday bells they chime
Around the countryside and towns
A song of harmony and rhyme
In haunts of ancient peace.
The holy grail we seek
On down by haunts of ancient peace.
We see the new jerusalem
In haunts of ancient peace.
Oh, when I cant find my feet
Oh, when I need some relief
One more time again.
You know I want to go there one more time again.
Be still in haunts of ancient peace.
(be still)
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My My, Hey Hey
My my, hey hey
Rock and roll is here to stay
It's better to burn out
Than to fade away
My my, hey hey.
Out of the blue and into the black
They give you this, but you pay for that
And once you're gone, you can never come back
When you're out of the blue and into the black.
The king is gone but he's not forgotten
This is the story of a johnny rotten
It's better to burn out than it is to rust
The king is gone but he's not forgotten.
Hey hey, my my
Rock and roll can never die
There's more to the picture
Than meets the eye.
Hey hey, my my.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Let it be Forgotten
Let it be forgotten, as a flower is forgotten,
Forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold.
Let it be forgotten forever and ever,
Time is a kind friend, he will make us old.
If anyone asks, say it was forgotten
Long and long ago,
As a flower, as a fire, as a hushed footfall
In a long-forgotten snow.
poem by Sara Teasdale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Forgotten Time
bumming around
the country...
sleeping under bridges,
or just under...
the night sky...
working when i
could find it.
selling blood
when i couldnt!
gather a little change,
stop in a diner
for a cup of
black coffee...
writing poems
on napkins
with pencils...
leaving them for
my tip...
unsigned, forgotten
prayers, a forgotten
man, a forgotten
time!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Nightingale
WHEN the moon a golden-pale
Lustre on my casement flings,
An enchanted nightingale
In the haunted silence sings.
Strange the song—its wondrous words
Taken from the primal tongue,
Known to men, and beasts, and birds,
When the care-worn world was young
Listening low, I hear the stars
Through her strains move solemnly,
And on lonesome banks and bars
Hear the sobbing of the sea.
And my memory dimly gropes
Hints to gather from her song
Of forgotten fears and hopes,
Joys and griefs forgotten long.
And I feel once more the strife
Of a passion, fierce and grand,
That, in some long-vanished life,
Held my soul at its command.
Ah, my Love, in robes of white
Standing by a moonlit sea,
Like a lily of the night,
Hast thou quite forgotten me?
Dost thou never dream at whiles
Of that silent, templed vale,
And the dim wood in whose aisles
Sang a secret nightingale?
Whither hast thou gone? What star
Holds thy spirit pure and fine?
In this world below there are
None like thee: and thou wert mine!
For a season all things last,
Love and Joy, and Life and Death;
Thou art portion of my past,
I of thine, whilst Time draws breath.
Fades the moonlight golden-pale,
And the bird has ceased to sing—
Ah, it was no nightingale,
But my heart—remembering.
poem by Victor James Daley
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When I was a child
When I was a child
I saw fireflies,
fly passing secretly at night.
The world was full of wonderful things
and there were trees
with bird nests and eggs
of white and pink and blue
and with spots on them.
I could shoot a true shot with my kettie
and the blue fishing rod
took carp, blue kurper, yellowfish
and catfish from streams.
Doves or fish fillets
from glowing wood embers,
tasted delicious
and the world was a great place.
At the marsh plovers jumped up and down
and like wounded birds, as if with a broken wing
tried to entice you away from their nests
Aloe and protea bushes were all over the kopjes
and prickly pear, wild peach, mispil and stamvrugte
were everywhere on the ridges.
The world of a child faded away with time.
But when I went back as a adult;
a highway runs right through the hillocks
and there are houses where there was marsh
and the streams are full of rubbish and litter
and I see how progress has destroyed nature.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Far Away In The Blue (Triolet)
As far away as the blue
where the sun touches the hillocks
lies the things that was once true,
as far away as the blue
lays memories of me and you,
where things are like they had been, like the rocks,
as far away as the blue
where the sun touches the hillocks.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Poet
Sometimes a killer
Because words
Words can shatter
Solid concepts human beliefs
Pages into the pieces torn
Sometimes a healer
Because words
Words can heal
Restore forgotten values relief
New books of life born
A plunderer
As words
Words are the treasure
Masks to wear and masks to tear
Life pulsating people to find
As words
Words are the target measure
Of a killer
Of a healer
Of a treasure hunter swift
The poet is Love Gift
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Time with You
Elves lighter than feathers play
Life flows in the suns corona
We are a couple, a bond
Walk the autumn Indian summer
Soon the stars will testify
Broken world marches on
Gentle green vibrates amidst the blue
Yellow and purple sigh
Your hand is a flower of love
Words are streams of shelter
Rivers rule the garden
Time with you is peace
Time with you is passion
Time with you is love
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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