Kyoto
staring out of the sun
a yellow disc
in a window above a hairdressers' salon
their mouths form words
whose erratic flight
stains the spaces in between
in pastel shades
faces all anxious
at what the changing light has made
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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Related quotes
How Many Shades Of Green
HOW MANY SHADES OF GREEN
How many shades of green
Olive green
Dark green
Light green
Yellow green
How many shades of yellow
Deep yellow
Rose yellow
Sun yellow
Morning light yellow
How many shades of light
How much light
How much Beauty in the world
How much Light-
How much- God.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Chaotic seconds>>>>
Your tongue becomes a
stretching of your
head.It is, in fact,
a lying tongue, which
breaks the complex
words, until they are
transformed in simple
sounds as the hours are
decomposed into chaotic
seconds to recompose
a new hallucinating time.Our
erratic thoughts anguish in
ignorance and resignation.Our
spaces seep into another
common one. The light
dances on our exhausted
bodies all its
shades of red.We
love each other in
our dream....
Copyright © ® Marieta Maglas. All rights reserved
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Because We've Kept Our Mouths Closed
While you and I were staring out the window,
Our lives were being played with.
Insignificantly.
As if a ball tossed,
By irresponsible kids.
And because we've kept our mouths closed...
Those balls then were thrown.
Tossed carelessly back to break that window.
With a showing of further disrespect.
And a lot of shouting expected.
With our lives continued to be played.
As if nothing had been heard.
Since we allowed it to be that way!
Because we've kept our mouths closed.
Or mumbled in silence...
To not disturb with bitter words.
For fear of being perceived as mean neighbors.
Now the whole neighborhood is policed,
And monitored.
To keep peace on the streets.
And at one time,
It was easy to blame this on 'them'!
You know...
'Them? '
Who had been 'those people'!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Name Of God
that which you throw away,
carried off to your dumps.
to be burned in petroleum fires....
just missing the mouths
of your shadowy conscience,
the faces staring back
from your mirror,
the hands that reach out
from the graveyards of your soul....
mouths whispering
the name of God!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Face in the Mirror
She calls out to the face in the mirror
And runs her fingers down the varnished frame
Then she lights a cigarette and inhales deeply,
Leaving the lighter lit and staring into the flame.
The sun shines in through the half opened curtains
It lights up the room but not her face
The mirror still darkened as the face stands staring
Darkness wraps around her, concealing the empty space.
She never chased the dreams
Or ran through the morning light
She was never heard above the screams
She just hid in the darkness of the night,
With the face in the mirror.
Now the sun's gone down, she looks through the window
At the faces and places and motion below
The face in the mirror watches her shadow
As she sits on the window ledge waiting to go.
She sees cars drive by with their bright lights
She hears voices carrying away into the night
The face in the mirror incites her to jump
And she leaps and falls downwards flight after flight.
She never chased her dreams
Now she's chasing the ground
She wasn't heard above the screams
Now she doesn't make a sound,
And the face in the mirror smashes.
poem by Mark Hopwood
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I was so anxious to succeed that I made a practice of appearing on all the disc jockey shows I could, in order to publicize the band.
quote by Lawrence Welk
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Never Satisfied
Where do we go from here
There must be something near
Changing you, changing me forever
Places changes, faces change
Life is so very strange
Changing time, changing rhyme together
Theres no where else to go
This could be our last show
Changing dreams, changing schemes never
We are never satisfied
Love is gone, along with fun
Now were reaching for the gun
Changing cast, changing fast, no more tether
We are never satisfied
song performed by by Judas Priest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Never Satisified
Where do we go from here
There must be something near
Changing you, changing me forever
Places changes, faces change
Life is so very strange
Changing time, changing rhyme together
Theres no where else to go
This could be our last show
Changing dreams, changing schemes never
We are never satisfied
Love is gone, along with fun
Now were reaching for the gun
Changing cast, changing fast, no more tether
We are never satisfied
song performed by by Judas Priest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Salvation.... Comes To This
full moon dripping
down through the trees,
the last train to nowhere
rumbles down the old tracks...
your eyes, staring softly
through the half lit window,
seem to speak, but leave
empty spaces where
naked words should be....
salvation then, comes to this,
the imprints your fingers leave
on the doorknob you just locked!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Inevitable
The setting sun as daylight fades,
before the dark of night descends.
Must paint the clouds in pastel shades
almost as if to make amends.
Before the dark of night descends.
Soft hues of various shades and grades,
make valiant efforts to defend
their last stronghold from darkness’ raids.
Must paint the clouds in pastel shades
in vain attempt which won’t extend
the closing of the day’s parade.
Today as all days has to end
Almost as if to make amends.
The night winds softly serenade
Mark the beginning of the end,
the fall of night cannot be stayed.
(Retourne/29-Jun-07)
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Divine Message
(An experience that I went through when
I was only five years old)
All around, everywhere, yellow, yellow, yellow,
The mist from the Earth to sky, the spaces filled;
Neither the moon, nor stars, nothing was visible,
The dominating fear, my blood, my bones chilled.
Alone, alone I was, nothing except me I found,
Silence, silence, serene silence was all around,
Nothingness led to the region of celestial wonder,
One tastes seeing no universe, no sky, no ground.
Then words of golden light appeared, disappeared,
In space but I could not read the divine message;
Still it confounds me when I recall the experience,
And I can not decide which I was led the passage.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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To Call up the Shades
One candle is enough. Its gentle light
will be more suitable, will be more gracious
when the Shades arrive, the Shades of Love.
One candle is enough. Tonight the room
should not have too much light. In deep reverie,
all receptiveness, and with the gentle light—
in this deep reverie I will form visions
to call up the Shades, the Shades of Love.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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A Kissing Mouth
something's pressing to my lips
something's trying to kiss me
mouths clash
saliva splash
stains my face red
i can't feel
anything
just a funny smell
something pulls my lips apart
something hot and wet and fast's
kissing me
and i'd scream
but for an alien tongue
i can't hear
anything
just a funny sound
my head's getting light
i try to struggle
but only hit my own mouth
the tongue between my lips
is so poisonously sweet
something's pressing to my lips
something's kissing me
mouths sing
depths unseen
and hope for a better world
i can't say
anything
just a simple chain of words
poem by Max Kuvaev
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Appreciation
Stop for a moment.
Open up your eyes
and see the entire splendor
under the skies.
The shades of green
covering the land,
The shades of blue water
in front of the sand,
The shades of red
that come at night
when you are viewing
a sunset's light,
The shades of yellow
in a glorious field
when daffodils bloom
in a springtime yield.
Now close your eyes
and keep them in mind
and the splendor stays with you
you will find.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Autumn In My Mind
i guess the color must be
pastel
pastel yellow and the feeling
must be humid
or if not it is something soft
and yet dry
and the only motion
like what candice describes
in her poem
must always be the
falling and
falling
and falling
and falling
and
touching the ground
with so much silence
except the
murmur of the
wind
always passing by
and not
really remembering
anything
between us
but i always remember
yes, always,
the pulsating pain
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hairdressers Nightmare
On the windswept pavement
The moonbeams tried to pierce the night
As moaning filled the air,
In the basement of the salon
It was night dark damp and dismal,
I entered the room pitch black
It was full of naked women,
The haircut bitchiness of them
Told me they were hair salon dropp outs
Unable to show their true colours.
The dyed curly head wrong set
Unable to show their faces,
They only could moan and grown
I could not find the light switch,
Being a man I could not
Feel my way around.
Oh my God
Someone is licking my face
OMG it’s my own dog
In my own bed
Oh heavens I have been riding
On a night mare
Horribus dyedidus hair rising action... cut
poem by Ken e Hall
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This Is The Game We Play
we have letters,
we spread them in our thoughts
and we form words, sometimes we like these words
to be not understood that so easily, to make a little suspense
of our game of words,
and we utter some words sometimes, so sweet sounding
our saliva pours from our mouths,
honey tasting words, a la black forest cakes,
we go beyond eating and licking and savoring,
we form words of love,
(setting aside for a while the evident
lust)
we play this game too well
no one gets hurt
plain sheets of white linen
we spread our naked bodies
we put words
using our tongues as hands
caressing hands
this is just a game of words
why do you palpitate that much?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hairdressers Nightmare
On the windswept pavement
The moonbeams tried to pierce the night
As moaning filled the air,
In the basement of the salon
It was night dark damp and dismal,
I entered the room pitch black
It was full of naked women,
The haircut bitchiness of them
Told me they were hair salon dropp outs
Unable to show their true colours.
The dyed curly head wrong set
Unable to show their faces,
They only could moan and grown
I could not find the light switch,
Being a man I could not
Feel my way around.
As I knelt on the ground
Oh my God
Someone is licking my face
OMG it’s my own dog
In my own bed
Oh heavens I have been riding
On a night mare
Horribus dyedidus hair rising action... cut
poem by Ken e Hall
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Be A Different Kind Of Poet
BE A DIFFERENT KIND OF POET
Be a different kind of poet
Stop moaning about your own misfortunes
Look at the world
There is so much waiting to be seen
So much Beauty unnamed
That in being said
will come alive in a new way
Look out the window now
The yellow green light through the trees
The unending sun above
All the spaces where darkness does not enter
And the soul says ‘Good morning’
Look. See again.
Remember
All of life is going on outside
Whether you cry or not
And naming it a bit
Can be a blessing, also.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Disc Golf's Spiritual Side
Sunday morning disc golf is a most spiritual thing:
the metallic jingle of chains as church bells ring
the sight of a disc being launched through the air
the easy camaraderie that most players share
the feel of breezes which caress your cheek
the odor of earth passing beneath your feet
the thrill of a birdie or an ace on a hole
the freedom of flight in each and every throw
poem by Jennifer ParksNolan as LeJenD'Poet
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