Forbidden Valley
Forbidden valley
Twin peaks arousing passion
Tulips on the tips
poem by Terry O'Leary
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Passion Lost or Found
The passion for life I had surrendered
The passion for love I could not remember
I felt like passion was now and fore ever forbidden
I kept myself entangled and hidden
From the world I felt was so unforgiving
Till a stranger walked in at the beginning of December
As I looked at him I said to my self no that's forbidden
Then i asked my self do i dare or shall i surrender
Then my passion for love had been unbroken
Then i knew I was in control of the world that was so unforgiving
With tears in my eyes and my stranger at my side
My hopes and dreams drowned all my sorrows in to the night
Then all of a sudden my hopes and dreams came back to me never again to be forbidden or taken back......
poem by Crystal Beard
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Makarora
Rocky peaks of Makarora in the summer wear their snow
And down the lush green grassy valley the clear mountain river flow
Songbirds piping in the beechwoods songthrush, bellbird and
redpoll
This a place of peace and beauty Makarora has a soul.
These great mountains look no different than to when the first man came
They have a wild rugged beauty for want of a better name
To the coming generations these high peaks will look the same
Man will not build houses on them man such wildness could not tame.
Summer's come to Makarora and along with her brought her green
Beauty to compare with any with the finest I have seen
This place would inspire an artist peaks in summer white
with snow
Beechwoods and through lush green valley sparkling mountain river flow.
Those high peaks of makarora will not change as years go by
Out there on those rugged mountains bones of Maori hunter lie
Still these mountains keep their secrets monarchs of the higher ground
Overlooking Makarora and the woodlands all around
Snow clad peaks of Makarora reaching upwards towards the sky
I am just a passing stranger and I'll be bidding you goodbye
But I will take with me the memories of beauty I have seen
today
Woodlands in a lush green valley by those mountains far away
poem by Francis Duggan
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My Evil Twin
My evil twin, bad weather friend
He always wants to start when I want to begin*
It scares me so, like I scare myself
With that book of nostradamus up upon my shelf
Playing hangman til the morning light
Doing donuts on the neighbors lawn
Then sleep all through the day, get up and start again
I can hear some sirens somewhere but I dont know why
My evil twin runs home again
Search lights look for an alibi, but Ill be home by then
Here he comes again, my evil twin
My friends have seen him hiding underneath my skin
Who cut the arm off the voodoo doll
That resembles a republican president from long ago
Id hate to see you leave
cause I have grown so grateful for the
Blame you save me from
My twin
My twin
My twin
(my twin) I know he looks like me
(my twin) hates work like me and walks like me
(my twin) hes even got a twin like me
My evil twin, bad weather friend
I know some day Ill meet him
But I dont know where or when
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Can Die
Wide awake,
the double helix splits.
Chasing the debris of refusal to die.
The new genes choose to mutate,
fencing the child who wanted to become
only brain. No flesh, no bones.
Will he survive on this date?
In the tortured ravines of hate and someone
will not hang him from the tall branches of yew?
The train was burning on the track,
bridge collapsed in the valley of gloom
and snow bound peaks were splattered red.
The young shadows are afraid to return
to play. The fibrosis will not allow the fingers
to move, to pick up the tulips, waiting for the
first time, to be harvested. The gardner is
dead under the dew. It was
cloudy again.
poem by Satish Verma
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And now comes Pete Martell in Twin Peaks and he's just a nice guy.
quote by Jack Nance
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Forbidden
something forbidden
becomes so delicious in the mind
the suspense of deprivation
makes it more desirable
everyday desire takes
upon itself what is forbidden
in the secret room
of the heart
guilt cries but
soon the guilt by extreme need
of the flesh
erases itself like the list
of unwanted friends
everyday what is forbidden is done
until such point
when what is forbidden becomes
a routine
until what is forbidden becomes
the usual familiarity
nothing about what is forbidden
becomes interesting
and then sin does not exist
until the good becomes the forbidden
in the silent room of your heart
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Spring Flowers ~ Tulips
Tulips shyly smiling, greet the spring
Tightly closed when at
First we meet
Tulips slowly opening, begin to sing
Gaining volume
Ever sweet
No longer shy, as days grow longer,
Raising their heads
They begin to flirt
Tulips dressed in many a color
Breezes swirling
Each floral skirt
Tulips, brazen painted hussies,
Part their bright lips trying to seduce
The busy buzzing bees
Far too bold for dainty tussies
Vibrant Tulip flowers produce
Visions certain to please
poem by Mary Havran
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Passion Of Tomorrow
PASSION OF TOMORROW
The passion of tomorrow
The lost passion for a stranger
The new passion of all days
The passion of tomorrow
Won’t be the only sorrow
Kissing you makes me feel dizzy
Wondering why are you still busy
Let go of yourself surrender
Open up to the sweet offender
The passion of today
Won’t let it go away
Even though forbidden
Keep the entangled hidden
Wish for your embrace
I feel like being in a haze
The passion of yesterday
Belongs to other days
Walks on the shore are gone
Watching the sun go down
Flows of tears were shed
until my heart was over fed
The passion of tomorrow
I just want it to grow and grow
I get troubled by love night mares
Torn between the no or do I dare
For you I feel this nagging hunger
Striking me like hundreds of thunders
The passion of tomorrow
The lost passion for a stranger
The new passion of all days
poem by Morhardt Carmen Mencita Monoi Angel
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How Will I Love Thee
So many ways to show how love should go:
A quick kiss on the neck, and upward on,
To reach those willing lips, and eyes that glow,
And slowly, flame of love rekindles soon;
Then initiate kisses on hands and arms,
Crawling up the shoulders and down the front,
To the valley, so love, further it warms,
The twin peaks, might I climb when I confront;
And best to plant kisses inside the thighs,
For upward soon a garden may be reached,
There in the lawn, might I recline with sighs,
For soon Victoria's Secret may get breached;
…….My expectations went down with a crash,
…….Lawns always have the sign: 'Keep Off The Grass'
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
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The Mountain Like A Lion
Windsor Seep was dry and covered
with pine cones and dirt; on hands and knees
I could never have extracted water
there for my barren tongue to lap.
The saddle, with deer plentiful
as pests, huddles my tent and me;
where I saw the spinning stars
against the towering twin peaks.
My boots were wired to my feet,
kicked by rocks and prickly pear,
whose fruit I'd had to eat
for the juice bound by a thousand neddles there.
Then, another night.
The winds of autumn howled down the peaks
like javelinas,
yet the mountain itself was a lion,
Looking me between the eyes,
then pouncing.
poem by Stan Petrovich
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Sweet scents red tulips
Red tulips bring such happiness
Our hearts are full of pleasure.
haiku by Natasa Tocuc
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Twin Peaks was special because it was so groundbreaking. In the early '90s it really changed television a lot. A bunch of weird shows, like Northern Exposure, came on after that.
quote by Sherilyn Fenn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I really loved Twin Peaks. When I saw the two-hour pilot, they screened it in the big theatre. I said, I don't know what is going to happen. I'm in this and I don't understand it. This is never going to sell. Who's going to watch this thing?
quote by Sherilyn Fenn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Plastic Passion
Plastic passion is a hard to handle
Plastic passion is a sold out scandal
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is the ladies lover
Plastic passion is the marble mother
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is a diamond delight
Plastic passion is the nadir of night
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is a hycoscine heart
Plastic passion is a transparent tart
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is a gold guarantee
The plastic passion is murdering me
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Woman’s chest
The twin discs falling apart,
The twin apples standing up,
Or the twin mangoes reclining
Have their charm on woman’s chest.
29.04.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flowers for You
The future is a lot like choosing a flower to send.
If I've used this analogy before, I will make amend.
What type of flower should I send to you my dear?
Rose, Daisy, Tulip, a combination, it is still not clear.
The flower of choice for her is the Tulip you see.
The red Tulip means a declaration of love on bended knee.
Generally speaking, Tulips mean the perfect lover.
Oh no, by sending them to you, I've blown my cover.
Take care of your Tulips with love and compassion.
Their beauty will remind you of one who has passion.
Allow my water to quench your flower's thirst.
Fill your heart with my love until it should burst.
poem by Manager Poet
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I grew up in Colorado - went back there, tried to heal myself and grow and learn, then got a call that David Lynch wanted me to fly back to Seattle so he could meet me for Twin Peaks.
quote by Sheryl Lee
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poignant Pure Youth Flame White Passion Polished
poignant pure youth flame white passion polished
marble fresh bone china bowl of life fully rounded
you ride not high upon summit peaks or ridge rim but
deep in valley contemplation bottom sentenced grave fated
upon life’s word ripple rim many brown blood tears
fall for you cut out from heart centre in a corrida community
mourning every leaf fallen from Spanish passion trees
withers already a few begin to merge into mud
viewpoint ridges away distance horseback astride merged
you appear legless riding down into death cloud
Extract from the poem ‘A Thousand Flamenco Fires’ by Terence George Craddock
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Where Is My Passion
Where is my passion
Far too much pain
Where is my passion
Must I love in vain?
Where is my passion
I need must know
Where is my passion
I want so much to grow
Where is my passion
Lost in your lips
Where is my passion
I feel for your kiss
Where is my passion
Lost in your eyes
Where is my passion
Release me to fly
Where is my passion
There in your hands
Where is my passion
Touch me…expand
Where is my passion
Please…be a man
poem by Fleurette Elaine Harris
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Forms Of Escape
you sailed away from the certainties
of your faith
you find the exit back door and leave no note
whatever
only doubts that they can feast upon
while you are away
on a destination that only your heart
so strange this time
knows
you land upon twin islands
twin hills with milk flowing from their tips
but only for six years
and then the trees grow into a forest and
you find yourself
lost again in the woods
the grass grow tall and you do not like it anymore
on another island you find fog and hazy horizons
and in all these you find
a world that is too interesting to leave
you stay here
now you like this darkness and coldness
your moon
your mistress
and in your sleep you talk about a certain madness
those who know you and if they know you much
if you only let them know and let them speak their minds
like the river and the sea
i guess, they will say the same thing that i will say
your life is wasted.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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