Who's There
Twisting and turning
In the viable clouds
The swirling air
Came a dark mass
Casting figures
Over the square
The figures changed
And reports mounted of various descriptions of what people think they saw:
A tree, an axe,
A black demon-rider, an old tower, a harrowing canyon, a bowl of roses.
Death himself.
The town newspaper got wind of these discrepancies
And asked for more submissions.
The most popular answer was you see your most loved one,
In demise transforming,
Returning to mother earth.
And everyone was scared
Because none was prepared.
poem by Stan Petrovich

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Twisting
She set your goldfish free
And now shes sighing
Blew out your pilot light
And made a wish
She doesnt have to have
Her dbs record back now
But theres not a lot of things
That shell take back
(she wants) she wants to see you again
(she wants) she wants to see you again
Slowly twisting (twisting)
In the wind (twisting)
Twisting twisting (twisting)
In the wind
Shes not your satellite
She doesnt miss you
So turn off your smoke machine
And marshall stack
She doesnt have to have
Her young fresh fellows tape back now
But theres not a lot of things
That shell take back
(she wants) she wants to see you again
(she wants) she wants to see you again
Slowly twisting (twisting)
In the wind (twisting)
Twisting twisting (twisting)
In the wind
(she wants) she wants to see you again
(she wants) she wants to see you again
Slowly twisting (twisting)
In the wind (twisting)
Twisting twisting (twisting)
In the wind
song performed by by They Might Be Giants

Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
A Twisting Mental Knife
There is a twisting knife
In your disturbed unhappy mind,
Those who don’t understand you,
Tell you to pull it out,
Not presupposing you have
Been delicately trying for years!
The city of your childhood memories
Is so desolate and dark,
Even black clouds have departed the town,
Loved ones have let you down,
Fail to feel your pain
Or see the beauty
Of the emerging poet!
If I could loosen that knife
With romantic adoring hope,
I would hold your hand
Beneath a kaleidoscope
Of dancing rainbows,
But the answer is the love of self
That every day you’ll have to nurture!
poem by Uriah Hamilton

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
You see, 30 years ago I didn't have near the audience I have now. My tapes on the cults have reached a circulation of 15 million. those are not my figures but the figures of the people who distribute them.
quote by Walter Martin

Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Figures Don't Lie (edited)
you must understand that what costs
us sleepless nights
and these ugly eye-bags are not
really the words, but the
numbers,
yes the numbers those digits
those symbols
they are the least common
denominators
and numbers are figures and figures
as you must have been briefed by the famous adage department
figures do not lie.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Put a Penny in the Slot
If my action's stiff and crude,
Do not laugh, because it's rude.
If my gestures promise larks,
Do not make unkind remarks.
Clockwork figures may be found
Everywhere and all around.
Ten to one, if I but knew,
You are clockwork figures too.
And the motto of the lot,
"Put a penny in the slot!"
Usurer, for money lent,
Making out his cent per cent -
Widow plump or maiden rare,
Deaf and dumb to suitor's prayer -
Tax collectors, whom in vain
You implore to "call again" -
Cautious voter, whom you find
Slow in making up his mind -
If you'd move them on the spot,
Put a penny in the slot!
Bland reporters in the courts,
Who suppress police reports -
Sheriff's yeoman, pen in fist,
Making out a jury list -
Stern policemen, tall and spare,
Acting all "upon the square" -
(Which in words that plainer fall,
Means that you can square them all) -
If you want to move the lot,
Put a penny in the slot!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
People are so afraid of authority figures and doctors are authority figures.
quote by Martha Beck

Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Sacred relation
"What on earth can be called sacred relation"?
One friend parried a direct question
"Why the query all of sudden"?
I was not prepared to answer even
He had lost mother recently
He was keeping quiet but asked gently
I understood pain from his eyes
Even though the death of his mother was long gone by
Right from the conception she is aligned with child
Her nature undergoes change and remains mild
Everybody takes special care of her
First happy moment is shared by sister
The family is heavily loaded with movement
The child is expected at any moment
Everybody at home is right on toe
Only the word is awaited with the signal "go"
Mother has no more reason to worry
Whole world is on her steps to carry
She has complete time to spend after child
Even after child troubles her or goes wild
Such beautiful mother is heavenly gift on earth
Attachment is such that we don't forget even after her death
The sadness on part of friend was easily understood
I decided to console him and firmly stood by
I knew by folk tales that mother was no less than goddess
You can see entire world in her or on face
If world has to owe anything to any one
Then mother stands the only chance and none else
I too became sentimental along with him and cried
I put maximum words to console him and earnestly tried
He was quiet reasonable but carried away by memory
He felt so sad and had certain reasons to worry
I feel irritated at the news of mother's death
If that really happens to me then what aftermath!
I found no answer and winked at the blue sky
The birds were returning home for next day to fly
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Black Dreadlocks
Black Dreadlocks
With his red
Green and gold
Twisting
Turning
Burning the collie
In the sun
His crown
Etches in the hill
His face
Covers with glory
And although the footsteps
Are far away
And his body is fixed
He can still
Feel the beat
As the people
Take to the streets
With their goatskin drums
Pounding and grinding
Black Dreadlocks
With his red
Green and gold
Twisting
Turning
Burning the collie
In the sun
It's a day to remember
When Black Dreadlocks
Becomes king
poem by Buxton Shippy

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Tale of Christmas Eve
'Twas Christmastide in Germany,
And in the year of 1850,
And in the city of Berlin, which is most beautiful to the eye;
A poor boy was heard calling out to passers-by.
"Who'll buy my pretty figures," loudly he did cry,
Plaster of Paris figures, but no one inclined to buy;
His clothes were thin and he was nearly frozen with cold,
And wholly starving with hunger, a pitiful sight to behold.
And the twilight was giving place to the shadows of approaching night,
And those who possessed a home were seeking its warmth and light;
And the market square was dark and he began to moan,
When he thought of his hungry brother and sisters at home.
Alas! The poor boy was afraid to go home,
Oh, Heaven! hard was his lot, for money he'd none;
And the tears coursed down his cheeks while loudly he did cry,
"Buy my plaster of Paris figures, oh! please come buy."
It was now quite dark while he stood there,
And the passers-by did at the poor boy stare,
As he stood shivering with cold in the market square;
And with the falling snow he was almost frozen to the bone.
And what would it avail him standing there alone,
Therefore he must make up his mind to return home.
Then he tried to hoist the board and figures on to his head,
And for fear of letting the board fall he was in great dread;
Then he struggled manfully forward without delay,
But alas! He fell on the pavement, oh! horror and dismay.
And his beautiful figures were broken and scattered around him,
And at the sight thereof his eyes grew dim;
And when he regained his feet he stood speechless like one bowed down,
Then the poor boy did fret and frown.
Then the almost despairing boy cried aloud,
And related his distress to the increasing crowd;
Oh! What a pitiful sight on a Christmas eve,
But the dense crowd didn't the poor boy relieve,
Until a poor wood-cutter chanced to come along,
And he asked of the crowd what was wrong;
And twenty ready tongues tells him the sad tale,
And when he heard it the poor boy's fate he did bewail.
And he cried, "Here! Something must be done and quickly too,
Do you hear! Every blessed soul of you;
Come, each one give a few pence to the poor boy,
And it will help to fill his heart with joy."
Then the wood-cutter gave a golden coin away,
So the crowd subscribed largely without delay;
Which made the poor boy's heart feel gay,
Then the wood-cutter thanked the crowd and went away.
So the poor boy did a large subscription receive,
And his brother, mother, and sisters had a happy Christmas eve;
And he thanked the crowd and God that to him the money sent,
And bade the crowd good-night, then went home content.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
But there have been many news reports that water-boarding has been used on Khalid Sheikh Mohammed, who is one of the major al Qaeda figures that we have in U.S. custody.
quote by Jane Mayer

Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Inevitable conclusion.
Grey figures moving in the mist
that rolls across the battlefield
Although long dead they still persist
and stubbornly refuse to yield
The can’t go back and won’t move on
perhaps convinced they’re still alive.
So they still wander woebegone
they’ve given all they had to give.
They still have hope although in vain.
That they will wake up from their dream
and be set free to live again.
To see once more the bright sun beam.
I wander with my pen in hand
I try to record how I feel
I do my best to understand.
I hear somehow their mute appeal.
On holiday in Flanders fields
I write my journal every day.
Each battlefield I visit yields
more ghostly figures in the grey
of swirling slowly fading mist.
Evaporating in the sun
I can do nothing to assist.
But if I could I would have done.
Almost a century has passed
since that great war to end all wars.
Still in the mists sad ghosts are massed.
But mankind has not changed his course.
He has evolved the means to kill
in greater numbers than before.
It seems that mankind lacks the will
to live in peace. He prefers war.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

In the depths of the mirror the evening landscape moved by, the mirror and the reflected figures like motion pictures superimposed one on the other. The figures and the background were unrelated, and yet the figures, transparent and intangible, and the background, dim in the gathering darkness, melted into a sort of symbolic world not of this world. Particularly when a light out in the mountains shone in the center of the girl's face, Shimamura felt his chest rise at the inexpressible beauty of it.
Yasunari Kawabata in Snow Country

Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
Hymn To Eros
O Eros, silently smiling one, hear me.
Let the shadow of thy wings
brush me.
Let thy presence
enfold me, as if darkness
were swandown.
Let me see that darkness
lamp in hand,
this country become
the other country
sacred to desire.
Drowsy god,
slow the wheels of my thought
so that I listen only
to the snowfall hush of
thy circling.
Close my beloved with me
in the smoke ring of thy power,
that we way be, each to the other,
figures of flame,
figures of smoke,
figures of flesh
newly seen in the dusk.
poem by Denise Levertov

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dark Circles
Never have I seen anything so clear and promising
As the landscape rolling before my eyes at this moment
Now I see that there is a force I must stop resisting
The readiness to rebuild is becoming more potent
The ashes of what used to be play in the dry wind
And I see a beautiful vision that looks so kind
Dark circles made of ash dance in the air around me
I begin to dance in the beautiful storm and I smile
Why is it that I laugh when there is no light to see?
Why do I dance when I will soon face a testing trial?
There is something exciting and humbling in darkness
From this darkness I will soon find a new grand happiness
In my heart I am feeling the new life. I feel paralyzing
In my mind I am prepared to rebuild. Nothing now stops me
I can feel that soon I will be on top and I’ll be blazing
I can feel that soon I will be revered and I’ll be free
So, why not dance with the swirls of ash so black and dry?
I would rather dance now then continue to hopelessly cry
Dark circles cover me from head to toe!
Dark circles decorate the dead landscape!
Dark circles are flying so high, like my hero!
Dark circles lead me to a grand escape!
Dark circles wrap around me and we fly!
Dark circles! A dance I always wanted to try!
All the ashes mold and form into black angels in the air
They reach out and take my hands and we run
Dark circles cover my eyes and dance through my hair
Dark figures lead me through the darkness to the sun
And in the end of the darkness I see a shining light!
It’s a mirror; it reflects me, a shining light so bright
Dark circles dance around me in celebration of a new birth
They fly high and fall down to create a wind so strong
My face is covered with colors from the burned earth
I do not look like a man. I look like a creature of wrong
I smile and I realize that this is my new territory
Dark circles form a new black castle free of any tragedy!
Dark ashes line the air and the skies!
Dark circles swirl through the land!
Dark circles vibrate with my joyful cries!
Dark circles run along my porcelain hand!
Dark circles shine new light into my life!
Dark circles bring new beauty to my eye…
poem by German Alcala

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The World is Black
Death and destruction, all for no reason
Wars and bombings based only on rumors
Suicide and murder in all seasons
Earth is a society of consumers
Death and hatred not shocking anymore
Growing repititous in newspapers
Scenes upon scenes of dead bodies and gore
The air swarming with poisonous vapors
Dying seems to be a popular trend
Is becoming okay in the world's eyes
All this chaos never going to end
Until everyone meets their demise
People and countries all under attack
The world is evil, the world is pitch black
poem by Jared Anders

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Figures.
Now year five,
Hundred and seventy five not alive.
This figure, we are told,
The 'dead' figure we are 'sold'.
Yes everyone an hero,
Every praise we bestow.
However there is another stat',
Continually an 'unknown' fact.
Hundreds wounded and maimed,
People and figures hardly named.
Too much an embarrassment,
The truth is 'inconvenient.'
Figures not revealed,
They remain concealed.
The true cost of the war,
And what it is for!
20/03/08
poem by Guy Lipmore

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

There's a challenge to playing these fantasy figures because they are fantasy figures. You have to enter into this sort of imaginative world of the writer.
quote by Ralph Fiennes

Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Easy Rider
Pop/jones
In the alley where have I grown
Hot night sweats our clothes
My hell is crackin fire
Thats what you inspire
Cruel highway entrance signs
People driving to their lives
Looks like a giant stream
But its just a dream
Easy rider, easy rider
Easy rider, easy rider
Broken people all around
Old guarantees that pull you down
You need a way out, you need a ride
Cause where you are is suicide
Easy rider, easy rider
Easy rider, easy rider
Oh I see the sacred dreams
And if Im no _? _
Ill feel real _? _
Tearing out my hair
I see fertility
In pretty girls I meet
I love my friend
Give me hands _? _
Highway in the sun
We listen to the engines run
I wanna fine myself in you
You wanna find yourself, too
Easy rider, easy rider
Easy rider, easy rider
Easy rider, easy rider
Easy rider, easy rider
song performed by by Iggy Pop

Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Kikwit Town
By michael mcdonald and chester thompson
From a house comes the sound of an infant crying
People stand and stare at the door
They dare not go in
Where a child lies sobbing beside a lifeless body
Trying in vain to awaken the mother within
This chain of death has so many faces
From the frightened man to the pitiful child
Where is our deliverance here?
Will this not pass over?
Chorus:
I wont go back to kikwit town
I wont go back
I wont go back to kikwit town
I wont go back
They would not give us my fathers body
The men in orange suits started gathering round
They asked the names of all who live here
As they threw him down in hole and burned his house down
What have we done to deserve this?
Gods wrath has surely come
He lets the devil walk among us
He lets death into our homes
Where is our deliverance here
From this demon loosed upon us?
Chorus:
Is it not enough we live in this squalor?
Is it not enough these sacrifices we make?
Are we not entitled to some mercy
On this short journey we take?
Chorus:
They said come down and answer all our questions
Its best for all if I turn myself in
But I know as sure as I walk through that hospital door
I will never see daylight again
What have we done to deserve this?
Gods wrath has surely come
He lets the devil walk among us
He lets death into our homes
Where is our deliverance here
From this demon loosed upon us?
Chorus:
song performed by by Michael Mcdonald

Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Eagles in a Canyon
soaring past the canyon walls
the babies hear their familiar calls
The parents are returning, synchronizing a stunt
to supply their babies with food from a hunt
This time the food was easy to fetch
for the goats were pushed, off the canyon's edge
To the rocks below, they fell to their death
now the pair zoomed in with no shortness of breath
bringing back to their babies, this elaborate catch
two baby goats for their chicks, a perfect match
Now they soar again, through the canyon walls
passing cascades of watery falls
To reach the tree, they call their own
and the beautiful home, they've always known.
(Charlie vergara/06.25.2009/15112)
poem by White Tiger

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!