This Was Once History
A grey cloud appeared today
And the rain came down
The sky was angry it seemed
Because the sun wore a frown
This Was Once History
The winds picked up again
How the silence filled the room
A vision of a lonely land
Filled with tears and gloom
This Was Once History
poem by Suelynn Walters
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The Epic Is Dead
Lean, fast
lonely greyhounds,
you are ghosts
of the past
“deserts are interesting
spiritual places”
a sad joke
on the margin
of history,
honor is meaningless
cold winds,
long winters,
infinite wheat,
the light of the plains
pushed far
no room for saints
or soldiers
no room for poets
history passed by
and silence remains
the epic is dead
eternity to rot
poem by Luis Gil de la Puente
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Castilla
Lean, fast
lonely greyhounds,
you are ghosts
of the past
“deserts are interesting
spiritual places”
a sad joke
on the margin
of history,
honor is meaningless
cold winds,
long winters,
infinite wheat,
the light of the plains
pushed far
no room for saints
or soldiers
no room for poets
history passed by
and silence remains
the epic is dead
eternity to rot
poem by Luis Gil de la Puente
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tomorrow Will Be Better
Some days we are filled with happiness,
some days we are filled with gloom.
Some times we are filled with optimism
that illuminates every room.
Our moods change so quickly
just like the weather,
yet here we are filled with whatever
always hoping tomorrow will be better.
12 February 2011
poem by David Harris
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I Wander Lonely Not a Cloud
I wander lonely not like
a cloud
as the cloud wanders
overlooking scenery ground
the wild bushes, the wide seas abound
I wander lonely beneath
that wandering cloud
that blocks my vision's way
where sunlit is behind
I gaze sharply up the cloud
then it stares back at me
and we've realized where both lonely
transforming with each other
into self-exchange shock absorber
eventually tears have been pouring
down hitting my cheeks
not from my teary eye but from the
solitary cloudy sky
and my sweat is evaporating up
to the nowhere sky
Is that downpour tears from the cloud of
loneliness
or that drizzling rain is a prize
to wash my dusty-loaded feet
as reward of being its sole comforter?
How's my sweat being evaporated to the nowhere
Is the cloud concern enough to wipe my 'tears'?
A rain of mine drenching my
entire lonely-planet self...........
poem by Rommel Mark Dominguez Marchan
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Complacency Kills
So many people know what's wrong
but still are singing the same old song.
They know our government's filled with sin
but they accept the predicament that we're in.
We've become complacent and accept our fate.
They are the eaters. We are the bait.
They gobble up hope with an iron hand
and tell us we have freedom in this land.
Too many lies have filled our ears
over and again all through the years.
We are taxed to death and they still want more.
They need more taxes for another war.
They get richer as they take what we earn.
They take away our dreams and still we yearn
for change to come and light to shine.
That's a fool's way of thinking, a clinging vine
that hangs on to a vision that's not real.
For every government is set up to steal.
So why can't people take back what's theirs?
Because they're too busy saying their prayers.
Well God helps those who help themselves.
Read the history books gathering dust on shelves.
Then you'll see that it's all up to we
to change what's becoming our history.
Visit my bookstore at
stores.lulu.com/reizerj
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Sanctuary
Density of the room
Filled with gloom
Ahead, nothing emerges
The four walls
Witness semen, blood, sweat and tears
The floors suffocate
The bed strains
Groans and moans
Were the past luxury
The exit door is history
Leads to our mortuaries
Confinement eludes
Rejuvenates prelude
One word is enough
To plough
Sanctuary
Is the calamity
PS: Get the right mood, tune in to Gary Moore's song 'Empty Room'.It would complete your reading of this poem.
poem by Sulaiman Mohd Yusof
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Band Of Gold
Now that youve gone
All thats left is a band of gold
All thats left are the dreams I hold
Band of gold
And the memories of what love could be
If you were still here with me
You took me from the shelter of my mother
I have never known or loved another
We kissed after taking vows
That night on our honeymoon
We stayed in separate rooms
I wait in the darkness of my lonely room
Filled with sadness filled with gloom
Hoping soon
That youll walk back through that door
And love me like you tried before
Now that youve gone
All thats left is a band of gold
All thats left are the dreams I hold
Band of gold
And memories of what love could be
If you were still here with me
Dont you know that I wait
In the darkness of my lonely room
Filled with sadness filled with gloom
Hoping soon
That youll walk back through that door
And love me like you tried before
Since youve been gone
All thats left is a band of gold
All thats left are the dreams I hold
Band of gold
And the memories of what love could be
If you were still here with me
I wait in the darkness of my lonely room
Filled with sadness filled with gloom
Hoping soon
That youll walk back through that door
And love me like you tried before
song performed by by Belinda Carlisle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Crying the Blues in the City that Was
High is the waxing, melting moon,
Sad the smoked filled blues in the room,
Through screaming hot tears,
Softly I beseech you my love,
Come back, to the city that was.
Before the angry screams of howling winds,
Before the salted tears filled our home,
Remember nights afloat on sultry breezes,
Drugged with the scent of gardenias,
Come back to our love that was.
High is the cold, silver moon,
Cries of the sax fill the smokey room,
While my heart softly sings these blues,
Return to to the city, to me, my love,
Come back, rebuild the city that was.
poem by by unknown author
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Rain Tears
Rain, tears, rain, tears,
Melding in torrential fears:
Chill of cloud; saddened eye-
In either way, a latent cry.
Rain, tears, rain, tears,
Married under sceptic jeers:
‘They'll never last.' Methinks not true, for
Either way, forever blue.
Rain, tears, rain, tears,
Simple love with lacy cares,
Their intercourse will ne'er refrain
From rain and tears and tears and rain.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
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: tears: : rain tears: : rain tears: : rain tears: : rain tears
n: : tears: : rain tears: : rain tears: : rain tears: : rain tears
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The Rest Is History
Saw you across the room
Felt somethin stir inside my soul
Knew Id never be the same
Now that love had taken hold
Then when you touched me
There was no doubt
You unterstood what my heart was all about
And the rest is history
The story of you and me
For all eternity
The record will show
Well fill up the pages
Romance for the ages
There for the world to see
The rest ist history
Before we spoke a word
My heart told me you were the one
When you pressed your hand to mine
I knew my life had just begun
Like some old movie
Music filled the night
Lost held each other tight.
And the rest is history
The story of you and me
For all eternity
The record will show
Well fill up the pages
Romance for the ages
There for the world to see
The rest ist history
And the rest is history
The story of you and me
For all eternity
The record will show
Well fill up the pages
Romance for the ages
There for the world to see
The rest ist history
History ...
The rest is history.
The rest is history.
song performed by by LeAnn Rimes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Memory That Lives
The scent of the roses
have filled the room.
They came today
to lessen my gloom.
Why the gloom?
why the doom?
There's a hole in my heart
like a cold stone tomb
filled with pain
ever present
like an empty womb.
I've lost my babe.
She was taken away
and 50 years later
there are roses to say
'Your pain is mine.
I feel it too.
For mine was the seed
placed in you.'
And so on this melancholy day
once every year
the roses are sent by my love,
my dear
to help me remember
her birth, her death
as I inhale the sweetness
with my breath
that I only wish was hers.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Black History Month
In January...
There they are making history.
In February...
There they are making history.
In March...
There they are making history.
In April...
There they are making history.
In May...
There they are making history.
In June...
There they are making history.
In July...
There they are making history.
In August...
There they are making history.
In September...
There they are making history.
In October...
There they are making history.
In November...
There they are making history.
In December...
There they are making history.
But...
It's nice to know
The shortest month of the year
Was chosen to celebrate
The great deeds of African-Americans!
However...
It is those LEAP YEARS,
That really have the blacks jumping for joy!
Note: 'Black History Month' along with other
works of interest can be found in...
*'MindPrints from Untouched Places-VOL I'*
~Now available online at a PC near you~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Unshackle
It was time to bid you, good bye.
Tears in my eyes knew,
It’s inability to hold you back.
Still like monsoon rain,
It showered, till
The reality was absorbed in my mind.
You moved on since then,
But, why couldn’t I?
No more song of suffering
Now I want to scream in joy.
No more shadow of cloud,
Even the happiness cloys.
Enough of this close room,
Let the walls come down.
Let my vision, be filled with green
Remove all pale and brown.
Let me stand beneath the sky;
Open arms like spread out wings
Let me think, that I can fly.
poem by Kingshuk Chakraborty
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Ashes
Skins on bones
upstaged the ash pile
in a damp narrow hut,
crouched before their executioners.
They had no tears
even though they tried to weep.
They did not bleed, over the weeks.
They were smoked without washing.
On the cusp of death, they sang:
let anthem rain
in the Promised Land!
Let anthem rain
where we come to sing
our songs of redemption.
Let anthem rain!
History is tardy but the ground
is a faithful witness.
This history will not be repeated,
memories restless where ashes wail.
poem by Buxton Shippy
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I Am Apart Of History
I am apart of history
History lies deep down inside of me
I am like Martin Luther King
Just like him I'm going to let freedom ring
I am like Mary Bethune
Because like Maya Angelou I walk like I got oil wells pumping in my living room
I am apart of history
History is important to me
I am like Charles DREW
Like him I can be a scientist too
I am like Malcolm X
Come on my sisters and brothers we have to stop that
I am like Chainey, Schwenger and Moore
I will get people to vote I will go to every door
I am apart of history
I accept the rights my ancestors gave to me
I am like Jackie Robinson
Lokking in the sky at my home runs
I am like Harriet Tubman
Taking slaves to their freedom land
I am like Medgar Evers
Like him I too can be clever
I am like Barack Obama
Rising above to greatness despite the drama
I am apart of history
History is deep down inside of me
poem by Jeanette Matthews
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History why do we care
History
a famous person dies
History
a war rages
History
a new invention
History
a building opens
History
what happens if something happens to me
is that history?
no....
So why do we care.....
poem by Andrea Thepoet
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~ His[s]tory ~
History Maker ~ Fossilized Custodian
History Breaker ~ Reckless Bohemian
History Reformer ~ Abortive Artisan
History Seeker ~ Obsessive Varifocalian
History Writer ~ Hyperbolic Historian
History Critique ~ Diplomatic Confucian
History Reader ~ Befuddled Bookman.
Better Opt For ~ Gymnastic Geography
Enjoy Floor Exercise ~ In Poetry.
Won’t You?
If Not Check Cervical Spine
For Etiology Of Vertigo Sign.
==
Glossary: Humbly given for what I tried to express: ~
Varifocalian: Metaphorically used relating to a lens that is graduated to permit any length of vision between near and distant.
poem by Ms. Nivedita Bagchi Spc. Uk.
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An autumn storm
An autumn storm
~
The sky turned grey, clouds rolled over
A wind picked up howling through trees
Birds took flight, flew into hiding
Rain patted down gathering pace
The horizon drew a charcoal grey
While winds picked up and rain ran down
Windows rattled, trees swayed
Whistling high pitch, almost screaming
The storm it came and raged wild
Then as quickly, as sudden as it came
It broke to clear skies, wisps of cloud
A gentle wind rolling through leaves
Rain soaked water dripping down
Drying in the sun now shining
An autumn storm in its passing
Captured the imagination to write
On an otherwise ordinary day
poem by Matthew Holloway
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War Is Our Worlds History
I Look into a history book.
And what do I see?
Pain and agony, death and suffering,
I see history that tells a lot about our world.
War!
Our world's history is war.
It is the pain and agony, the death and the suffering,
I see large fields of dead bodies,
I see our heritage being destroyed by other people
because it is not what they believe in,
I see people begging for mercy, but they do not get it
instead they get a bullet in the head.
In our history I see many mistakes in which we can learn from,
but we obviously we do not.
They say not to judge a book by its cover,
to me this quote means nothing to our history.
Our history is our cover,
and the book is filled with pain and agony, death and suffering.
Plain and Simple
War!
poem by Christian Cervantes
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The Lady Wore Black
On a lonely walk this morning
A light mist in the air
Dark clouds laughing at me in silence
Casting shadows through my hair
In the distance I saw a woman
Dressed in black with eyes of grey
She wore her pain like a shackled spirit
Eternal life was her debt to pay
The lady wore black
Its the sign of the prisoners lives
The lady wore black
See the years through the tears in her eyes
The lady wore black
Her mystic power calls to me
The lady wore black
Her love can set me free
The wind song whispered a warning
Telling me to beware
Of the quiet shadowed woman
And of the sadness I would share
We sat together for sometime together in silence
Never speaking in words
Of all her thoughts she spoke with her eyes
And I listened remembering all I heard
The lady wore black
Its the sign of the prisoners lives
The lady wore black
See the years through the tears in her eyes
The lady wore black
Her mystic power calls to me
The lady wore black
Her love can set me free
The words she spoke were of forgotten lives
And of all knowledge gained
Memries I had and didnt know why
With a smile she explained
I should have listened to the winds cold warning
And walked the other way
I touched her soul and now I bear her sentence
But for her love Ill gladly pay
The lady wore black
Its the sign of the prisoners lives
The lady wore black
See the years through the tears in her eyes
The lady wore black
Her mystic power calls to me
The lady wore black
Her love can set me free
song performed by by Queensryche
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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