Nadya Imagines
If she could have got
inside her head, Nadya
thinks, she is sure, her
mind can expand like an
inner universe. The thoughts
moving around like lost
planets, clusters of stars,
images, words, faces, actions
remembered. If she could
just put her hand into a
hidden orifice and reach
into her brain and sort
amongst the galaxies of
ideas she could be brighter,
braver, wiser, and there
clinging to certain ideas
associations like Proust's
madeleines would be old
loves, broken heart moments,
melodies from favourite songs.
Josef has told her to leave
off the booze, to put away
the bottles, drink water, tea
or whatever. But he does
not satisfy. His love making
is a joke, all push and poke.
Sometimes she thinks her
thoughts come out of her
head and dance. Time for
another drink. She thinks
of Paris. Summers past,
spring walks. Josef's endless
chatter breaks in; those all
too intellectual boring talks.
She imagines him as another,
pretends some young Russian
overeager tends to her, embraces
her body, kisses each inch of her
flesh, pleasure giving. No more of
this boring life, more of that wild,
touching the new, exploring sex, living.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Everyone Thinks I'm Crazy
Everyone thinks that I am crazy,
they look into my eyes and they,
wonder what lays behind of them,
maybe a man with a darkened soul,
or a man with a deep dark secret,
that he keeps bottled up inside,
of him like a stick of dynamite,
just waiting to go off and blow up,
his soul,
and expresses his true feelings,
towards this dark and evil hurt world,
that has always turned its back on him,
and his friends,
he feels so alone like the little,
boy inside of him that is afraid of,
the new world that he has been born into,
Everyone thinks that I am crazy,
take a look into my eyes and tell me,
what do you see? A lost boy that has no life,
a man who feels so alone that he just wants to,
end he just wants to end his, he doesn’t want
to live in this evil world anymore,
evil ideas and evil thoughts,
they run wild through his head,
and that no one ever cares about him,
just another pointless soul walking the,
earth and the realms of his insanity,
that fills his head with evil ideas and evil thoughts,
they look down at him with him dressed in his black,
outfit and his long black that makes him look so gothic,
and satanic you can look into his eyes and see nothing,
but pure hatred for what he has become,
everyone thinks that I am crazy,
maybe their right, maybe I am just
evil in its purist form like a line of cocaine,
going up society's nose,
and I am going to plaque the world for all of time,
just walking around and being pure evil.
poem by Robert Rumery
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Thoughts and ideas - (Talking through my hat)
Break and husk
thoughts and ideas that,
without reason,
I smashing them like nuts
into my head – mortar with pig iron pestle.
Lay and hatch
thoughts and ideas,
and younglings,
instead of fly,
I keep them under latch
in my head – cage of neurons,
dendrites and axons.
Knead and raise
thoughts and ideas
but let me tempted,
and without reason,
instead of bake them, I play
“of thieves and bobbies”
with bullets of dough
shot from my head – automatic gun.
Pull kernels out of
thoughts and ideas
but I put not them to spring
and hundredfold harvest to bring,
I chain them necklace
that my poor mind
who walks nomad
through my head – ballad
to put it neck
in a night with moon
and than to catch
in a fairies dance
and hungry of blue
to soar in the stars.
***
Thoughts and ideas
are shrieking through my mind
as lost migratory birds
in an autumn of rains.
Thoughts and ideas
- arrow-shaped cranes with wet wings -
fall all at once
in my head – moorland
of thistle and mud.
Bevies of ideas
and useless thoughts
surround my mind
how ravens give wheel
carrions to be
through my head - waste land
by boiling and winds.
Thoughts and ideas
go round
like a pack of wolves
with empty bellies
through my head – winter of frost,
winter of sleet
with my mind
thoroughly frozen
by fright and a biting wind.
Pick
bunches of thoughts and ideas
caressed by the sun of mind
in bacchanal vineyards
planted on encephalic hills.
I squish them
and expect to get wine
and get drunk
in my head – tavern where the smoke
knife just cut it
and air is sourbitter.
Fog of thoughts and ideas
rises from my mind
as darkness on swamps
in late autumn.
Nothing to see
not hear anything
all still is,
just the small brain
flickers in my head – gray curtain
between movement and inertia.
Slacked thoughts and ideas
are resting on benches of mind,
nothing pulling them
with hands and teeth,
I can’t them gather
at work to bring
to get something good
from my head – chaos
where it lacks a poleax
and a stump of elm.
poem by Viorel Petru Trifan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Written Word Rules!
At the idea of poetry, some people seem to scoff,
As they consider it is an art form only for toffs.
They may think that the concept of poetry is boring,
And that it will leave them fast asleep and snoring.
There are all types of poems: modern and classical.
There’s something for everyone: it’s not boring at all.
The lyrics of songs are poems as such;
They often rhyme together very much.
People like to sing along with their favourite songs,
So why does the concept of poetry feel so wrong?
I’ve only started writing poetry in the last few weeks,
And, I have to admit that I thought it was just for geeks.
But, now I can see, that whoever you are,
Everyone has the potential to go really far.
I have to admit, I much prefer
The written, to the spoken word.
At night, I lay awake tossing and turning in bed,
With random thoughts running through my head.
By my pillow, I keep a pen and note pad,
To jot down any thoughts, which I’ve had.
At the top of the page, my thoughts I jot,
And I always plan out a really rough plot.
I like to include words which have a nice ring.
Words, like these, into my poetry, I like to bring.
I continually go through the alphabet time after time,
Searching for useful words which, pretty much, rhyme.
In simple terms, my ideas, I always like to express;
Complicated and fancy words, my mind doesn’t posses.
I’m sat here, writing this poem, on a speeding train,
As thought after thought, floods into my brain.
I’m writing notes on a mini pocket timetable,
In any tiny blank space which is available.
In my handbag, I’ve got no pad, but I’ve got a pen;
My scribbled notes, I just hope I can comprehend.
I really must start carrying a notepad everywhere;
To forget all these thoughts I’ve had, I couldn’t bear.
When I’m thinking of ideas, I just can’t relax;
My mind seems to buzz to the absolute max.
I’m not far now from my final destination,
And the train is due to pull into the station.
On this subject, there’s not much more to be said,
So, I’m now putting this poem well and truly to bed.
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
She Thinks Shes Edith Head
Back in high school I knew a girl
Not too simple and not too kind
We both grew up, but I heard shed changed
From a new wave fan to another kind
She thinks shes edith head
But you might know shes not
The accent in her speech
She didnt have growing up
She thinks shes edith head
Or helen girlie brown
Or some other cultural figure
We dont know a lot about
Its been years since I moved away
But at christmas I come home
And I saw her reflection
In the window of a store
She was talking to herself
Not too simple and not too kind
I walked on by, it was complicated
And it stuck in my mind
She thinks shes edith head
But you might know shes not
The accent in her speech
She didnt have growing up
The accent in her speech
She didnt have growing up
The accent in her speech
She didnt have growing up
She thinks shes edith head
She thinks shes edith head now
She thinks shes edith head
She thinks shes edith head now
She thinks shes edith head
She thinks shes edith head now
She thinks shes edith head
She thinks shes edith head now
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Not Close
Where’s the kid? Kirkehuse
asks. She’s in bed, she’s sleeping,
Mother says. About time; never
knew a kid to yak so much. She’s just
a child. She’s a yakker and she talks
too much. Mother cuddles up close
to Kirkehuse on the sofa as he sips
his booze. You’re too soft with her;
she gets away with things. When I
was a kid I kept quiet and did as I
was told and if I didn’t my old man’d
make sure I knew what’d happen if
I didn’t, Kirkehuse says. Mother kisses
his stubbly cheek. I try, she mutters.
Well, you don’t try hard enough.
The kid just yaks and thinks she knows
things she doesn’t. Kirkehuse looks at
Mother’s head of hair. He kisses her.
And what was that about the history
lesson, eh? She thinks we don’t know
about the Kennedys? Mother pulls at
the hem of her dress; he sips his booze.
She’s just trying to show she’s good at school,
Mother says. Kirkehuse pulls a face.
If she were my kid she’d know her place.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
First sonnet
These words, they just wont come out of my head.
They stay deep down inside, where i can't reach.
I feel as if my mind has now gone dead.
These thoughts, i just cant hold, i want to screech!
You want me to write you a just sonnet,
but i cant think of what to say to you.
All i can think of is the word bonnet,
because its the only rhyme i can do.
if you want a better sonnet than this.
Then so help me, cause i don't have a clue.
do you think of my sonnet as amiss?
or are these thoughts down in my head adieu?
Will these ideas in my mind now leave?
So then i ask when will i be relieved?
poem by Brianna Perreira
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sadness Of Being
There's a sadness to our being,
Lola thinks, now swaying to the
Movement of the train, studying
People nearby, their faces in the
Morning light, their gestures,
Their inner thoughts unknowable,
Carrying their grief, their broken
Dreams, their unfulfilled appetites.
She senses the muscles in her bottom
Tense and untense as the train sways,
Her thighs stiffening to give balance,
Her hands folded on her handbag,
Ladylike, as Mother taught, some
Time ago, among other more important
Things, how to behave, how not to behave,
What to say in public and what not.
The train stops at a station, people
Get off and some get on, different
Faces to study, others lost, possibly
To sight for life, passing ships in a dull
Night, gone now never to be known
By her, never to be dreamed of or missed
Or grieved over some future death.
The train moves on, she sways again,
Her body moving to the motion as others
Do, and watching them, the way they sway,
The dying embers in their eyes, their words
Not said, the thoughts coming and going
Inside each head, sadness or some private
Joy, not shared, least not yet, not with her.
Sit still and be quiet, Mother would say,
Children ought (she always said ought) to
Be observed not heard, and as she sways
Now, thinking of her mother and her mother's
Words and ways, she feels she wants to shout
And jump about, to flout her mother's rules and
Words and sayings and laws, but she just sits and
Stares, silently, thinks rebellion, but never dares.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
That Girl
That girl thinks that shes so fine
That soon shell have my mind
That girl thinks that shes so smart
That soon shell have my heart
She thinks in no time flat
That shell be free and clear to start
With her emotional rescue of love that youll leave turn apart
That girl thinks that shes so bad
Shell change my tears from joy to sad
She says she keeps the upper hand
cause she can please her man
She doesnt use her love to make him weak
She uses love to keep him strong
And inside me theres no room for doubt
That it wont be too long
Before I tell her that I love her
That I want her
That my mind, soul and body needs her
Tell her that Id love to, that I want to
That I need to do all that I have to
To be in her love
Ive been hurting for a long time
And youve been playing for a long time
You know its true
Ive been holding for a long time
And youve been running for a long time
Its time to do what we have to do
That girl, that girl
That girl knows every single man
Would ask her for her hand
But she says her love is much too deep
For them to understand
She says her love has been crying out
But her lover hasnt heard
But what she doesnt realize is that Ive listened to every word
Thats why I know Ill tell that I love her
That I want her
That my mind, soul and body needs her
Tell her that Id love to, that I want to
That I need to do all that I have to
To be in her love
Tell her I love her
That I want her
That my mind and soul and body needs her
Tell her that Id love to, that I want to
That I need to do all that I have to
To be in her love
That I love her
That I want her
That my mind and soul and body needs her
Tell her that Id love to, that I want to
That I need to do all that I have to...
Tell her that I love her
That I want her
That my mind and soul and body needs her
Tell her that Id love to, that I want to
That I need to do all that I have to
To be in her...
That girl, that girl, that girl,
Oh, that girl, that girl, that girl, that girl...
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The King Of Broken Hearts
The king of broken hearts doesnt ask much from his friends
And he has quite a few of them
They know he will understand
Thats just the way it goes
Theking of broken hearts doesnt know hes a king
Hes tryin to forget other things
Like some old ship at sea
Hes walkin through life alone
He talks to angels
And the stars start to spin
He thinks of troubles that hes gotten in
He recalls how his heart got broken
And how its still that way
The king of broken hearts is so sad and wise
He can smile while hes cryin inside
We know hell be brave tonight
Cause hes the king of broken hearts
He talks to angels
And the stars start to spin
He thinks of the troubles that hes gotten in
He recalls how his heart got broken
And how its still that way
The king of broken hearts thinks that hes no fool
Hes a little like me and you
So whats a king like that supposed to do
With all that blue time
We know hell be brave tonight
Cause hes the king of broken hearts
Hes the king of broken hearts
song performed by by George Strait
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Train In The Distance
She was beautiful as southern skies
The night he met her
She was married to someone
He was doggedly determined that he would get her
He was old, he was young
From time to time hed tip his heart
But each time she withdrew
Everybody loves the sound of a train in the distance
Everybody thinks its true
Well eventually the boy and the girl get married
Sure enough they have a son
And though they both were occupied
With the child she carried
Disagreements had begun
And in a while they fell apart
It wasnt hard to do
Everybody loves the sound of a train in the distance
Everybody thinks its true
Two disappointed believers
Two people playing the game
Negotiations and love songs
Are often mistaken for one and the same
Now the man and the woman
Remain in contact
Let us say its for the child
With disagreements about the meaning
Of a marriage contract
Conversations hard and wild
But from time to time
He makes her laugh
She cooks a meal or two
Everybody loves the sound of a train in the distance
Everybody thinks its true
Everybody loves the sound of a train in the distance
Everybody thinks its true
What is the point of this story
What information pertains
The thought that life could be better
Is woven indelibly
Into our hearts
And our brains
song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Tonight
Pop/bowie
I saw my baby, she was turning blue
I knew that soon her young life was through
And so I got down on my knees down by her bed
And these are the words to her I said
Everything will be all right tonight
Everything will be all right tonight
No one moves, no one talks
No one thinks, no one walks tonight
Everyone will be all right tonight
Everyone will be all right tonight
No one moves, no one talks
No one thinks, no one walks
Tonight, tonight
I am gonna love her to the end.
I am gonna love her to the end.
I will love her til I die
I will see her in the sky
Tonight, tonight...
song performed by by Iggy Pop
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Get Out The Map
Im gonna clear my head
Im gonna drink that sun
The saddest sight my eyes can see
Is that big ball of orange sinking slyly down the trees
Sittin in a broken circle while you rest upon my knee
This perfect moment will soon be leaving me
Suzanne calls from boston the coffees hot the corn is high
And that same sun that warms your heart will suck the good earth dry
With everything its opposite enough to keep you crying
Or keep this old world spinning with a twinkle in its eye
Get out the map
Get out the map and lay your finger anywhere down
Well leave the figuring to those we pass on our way out of town
Dont drink the water there seems to be something ailing everyone
Im gonna clear my head
Im gonna drink that sun
Im gonna love you good and strong while our love is good and young
Joni left for south africa a few years ago
And then beth took a job all the way over on the west coast
And me Im still trying to live half a life on the road
Seems Im heavier by the year
(heavier by the year)
And heavier by the load
(heavier by the load)
Why do we hurtle ourselves through every inch of time and space
I must say around some corner I can sense a resting place
With every lesson learned a line upon your beautiful face
Well amuse ourselves one day with these memories well trace
Get out the map
Get out the map and lay your finger anywhere down
Well leave the figuring to those we pass on our way out of town
Dont drink the water there seems to be something ailing everyone
Im gonna clear my head
(Im gonna clear my head)
Im gonna drink that sun
(Im gonna drink that sun)
Im gonna love you good and strong while our love is good and young
Im gonna clear my head
Im gonna drink that sun
Im gonna love you good and strong while our love is good and young
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Being A Poet
I find that I can compose a poem best,
When I am out walking, or am at rest.
When I am lying in my bed at night,
I think about what I am able to write.
Or when I’m out walking, or sat on a train,
Words and ideas, all rush round my brain.
Sometimes, ideas just appear in my head,
Or may be a result of something I’ve read.
At fellow passengers, on a train, I take a look;
Some chatter away, while others read a book.
But, me, I’m sat there, quietly composing verse;
With dozens of ideas, my creative mind bursts.
If I compose lines on my way into town,
I repeat them over, until I write them down;
If they are not written down straightaway,
Around my mind, other thoughts then play.
There are many things which inspire me to write,
Such as animals, the seasons, and the sky at night.
If I try to force ideas, they just do not flow;
The poem itself, I find, just will not grow.
I like to write on a layperson’s level;
In too much information, I do not revel.
Having chosen a decent subject or idea,
I then need to get my brain in to gear.
Of a subject, I like to consider all of the aspects,
But I keep my writing simple; not too complex.
To make a poem rhyme, words I may change,
But I only use words that are within my range.
In using unfamiliar words, I can see no point;
A nice poem, tricky words, can really disjoint.
Words, within my head, I keep batting around,
Until the perfect combination, is finally found.
With poetry, I really love the creative process,
But over time, I’ve become slightly obsessed.
Sometimes I find myself talking in rhyme;
That I am a poet, this must be a sure sign.
Of my finished poems, I often feel proud;
One day, I’ll be brave and read them aloud.
Into my swirling head, ideas continue to pop;
I love writing poetry and never want to stop!
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
All I Ask For
Walters vanished got no one
Lived in fear on the run
Do no right, do no wrong
Drink all day until I'm gone
Yeah
At last I know how you felt
When I leave when I go
Lay alone by yourself
What you thought was all wrong
Do you know what to feel
What you thought was all wrong
Lay alone by yourself
?(I have no idea what he says here)
Have we lost it
Have we lost it just because
Have we lost it
Have we lost it just because
Walters vanished got no one
Lived in fear on the run
Do no right, do no wrong
Drink all day until I'm gone
And all I ask for
Nothing, Nothing
Well all I ask for
Nothing, Nothing
Well all I ask for
Nothing, nothing
Well all I ask for
Nothing
Lay alone by yourself in your bed
With all your thoughts inside your head
Lay alone by yourself inside your bed
With all your thoughts inside your head
All I ask for
Nothing, Nothing
All I ask for
Nothing, Nothing
Lay alone by yourself inside your bed
With all your thoughts inside your head
Lay alone by yourself inside your bed
With all your thoughts inside your head
Well all I ask for
Nothing, nothing
Well All I ask for
Nothing, nothing
Yeah
All I ask for
Nothing, nothing
All I ask for
Nothing
Just because
All I ask for nothing
Just because(repeated until end)
song performed by by Puddle Of Mudd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The hunger
the hunger thinks the rice
can chew both skin and bone
the hunger thinks it's nice
to eat although forlorn
the hunger thinks the corn
can swallow ears and eyes
deaf blind hunger born
self eaten within it dies
the hunger thinks the food
is just a body's unfair breath
the hunger knows the interlude
no food the body eats itself
the hunger thinks the body rotten
is just a place to survive and eat
the hunger of the lost and forgotten
makes its way to the last heart beat
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My November Guest
My Sorrow, when she's here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;
She walks the sodden pasture lane.
Her pleasure will not let me stay.
She talks and I am fain to list:
She's glad the birds are gone away,
She's glad her simple worsted grey
Is silver now with clinging mist.
The desolate, deserted trees,
The faded earth, the heavy sky,
The beauties she so truly sees,
She thinks I have no eye for these,
And vexes me for reason why.
Not yesterday I learned to know
The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow,
But it were vain to tell her so,
And they are better for her praise
poem by Robert Frost
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Images of Time
The images in my mind is like my thoughts.
Expressing my thoughts is like expressing my feelings.
Words are spoken.All my images are broken.
Broken down into pieces, which can never be made into new dishes.
Those images of past.It takes time to last.
It will last forever for met to take over.
All those images wore my past life.
But it has nothing to do with my past life.
Those images can be forgotten.But not those people.
Those people who are in your images.Can be in a real image.
When you see those people in front of you.
You like to say 'How are you'?
If they say I am fine.Then you will think of those time.
poem by Yash Pradhan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dance, Dance
She says she's no good with words but I'm worse
Barely stuttered out
A joke of a romantic stuck to my tongue
And weighed down with words too overdramatic
Tonight it's "it cant get much worse"
Vs. "no one should ever feel like.."
I'm two quarters and a heart down
And I don't want to forget how your voice sounds
These words are all I have so I write them
I need them just to get by
We will own your thoughts
We'll own the songs stuck in your head
We'll leave you kicking and screaming so you can thank us in the end
Dance, Dance
We're falling apart to half time
Dance, Dance
And these are the lives you love to lead
Dance this is the way they'd look
If they knew how misery loved me
into bed with me)
You always fold just before you're found out
Drink up its last call
Last resort
But only the first mistake and I...
I'm two quarters and a heart down
And I don't want to forget how your voice sounds
These words are all I have so I write them
I need them just to get by
Why don't you show me a little bit of spine
You've been saving for his mattress (with love)
Dance, Dance
We're falling apart to half time
Dance, Dance
And these are the lives you love to lead
Dance this is the way they'd look
If they knew how misery loved me
Why don't you show me a little bit of spine
You've been saving for his mattress (with love)
I only want sympathy in the form of you crawling into bed with me
Dance, Dance
Dance, Dance
Dance, Dance
Dance, Dance
song performed by by Fall Out Boy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Dottie Waits for Willie.
Dottie wishes Willie would
return home. All night she
had twisted and turned in
his bed. She looks out of
the window of their cottage
for the postie to come with
a letter from her brother,
but there is no sight or sign.
She sighs. Later she will prepare
one of his favourite pies. He'll
bring Sammy and they'll go
for walks and talk and smell
flowers and hear the birdsongs
and sit beneath trees and study
the sky. She moves to the kettle
and switches it on and prepares
a cup of tea. One teabag, two
sugars, a small spill of milk.
She sips and thinks. If Willie
were here now he'd lay his head
on her shoulder and read her
one of his poems. She likes it when
he reads her one of his poems.
She knows them because she
scribbles them down as he recites
them as they walk along. I can't
write sitting down, he often told her.
I need to walk and breathe the
air and hear the songs of birds.
She sits and imagines him there
beside her, his head on her
shoulder as if a pillow, his
vibrating voice moving inside her.
She senses a headache coming,
feels the tremors along her nerves
like a coming storm. It is a time
of bleeds. The moon's pull drags
her down. If Willie were here he'd
say, Go lay down and I will come
bring you pills and water and kiss
it better. But her brother is away
bringing Sammy. The clouds are
gathering, dark grey and heavy,
the sky becoming black, oh, she
says, if only my Willie was back.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
She Thinks His Name Was John
(sandy knox, steve rosen)
She can account for all of the men in her past
Where they are now, who they married, how many kids they have
She knew their backgrounds, family and friends
A few she even talks to now and then
But there is one she cant put her finger on
There is one who never leaves her thoughts
And she thinks his name was john
A chance meeting, a party a few years back
Broad shoulders and blue eyes, his hair was so black
He was a friend of a friend you could say
She let his smile just sweep her away
And in her heart she knew it was wrong
But too much wine and she left his bed at dawn
And she thinks his name was john
Now each day is one day thats left in her life
She wont know love, have a marriage or sing lullabies
She lays all alone and cries herself to sleep
cause she let a stranger kill her hopes and her dreams
And all her friends say what a pity what a loss
And in the end when she was barely hanging on
All she could say is she thinks his name was john
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!