Plastic Bag
I'm like a plastic bag blown in the wind,
Carried by the cutting razor of a gust.
Though I'm my moving, my soul's also been pinned—
I roll through the smog, dripping with disgust.
Carried by the cutting razor of a gust,
I fray on my fringe, my heart's dissection.
I roll through the smog, dripping with disgust.
It seems I've been fouled by an infection.
I fray on my fringe, my heart's dissection—
Empty emotions crumble from disuse;
It seems I've been fouled by an infection,
A rotten feeling: leaking and effuse.
Empty emotions crumble from disuse;
Malnourished, they wither and quickly spoil.
A rotten feeling—leaking and effuse—
Tars the beach of my thoughts in thick, dark oil.
Malnourished, they wither and quickly spoil:
The molecules floating in the fresh air
Tars the beach of my thoughts in thick, dark oil.
One wonders if one could still respire there.
The molecules floating in the fresh air
Disperse, dirtied in clouds of jet-black smoke.
One wonders if one could still respire there.
Now, it seems one is more lik'ly to choke.
Disperse, dirtied in clouds of jet-black smoke,
The sky fills with a blighted disease.
Now, it seems one is more lik'ly to choke,
Strangled by a swift, corrugated breeze.
The sky fills with a blighted disease
And all purity has fin'lly been thinned.
Strangled by a swift, corrugated breeze,
I am like a plastic bag blowing in the wind.
poem by Tim Stensloff
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Atoms
Atoms are back, balls of flame, swung into desuetude,
For they are light particles of enlightenment, to worship.
Comely atoms are effervescent, for they are with ebullience,
Areas are still, areas are bands of strength, banks of disuse.
May we swing into disuse one day with atoms and molecules,
Converted into dust, covered by clay as we originated from it;
Animals corrupt the ancient philosophers, apples of knowledge,
Fully like babies in perfection and perception, like arts of wholeness.
The capital of thinking regards the atoms with disgust,
My captain is a car of thoughts, drive it to reach more disuse;
The body of a book is a cynosure of this civilisation,
Swinging us into efflorescence, for we are ephemeral.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Don't... And You Won't...
Do not go for a walk
And aloud do not talk
As the thieves are all around
And you'll easily be found.
Do not sin, you'll get the AIDS
And will walk on the edge of blades.
Don't eat nuts or something solid
As your teeth will be soon spoiled.
Don't run quickly, you can fall,
Won't be able to walk at all.
Do not sit, take care of your ass,
It hemorrhoids can possess.
Do not lie as you'll fray your hip,
Do not lie as you'll get a pip
Don't give birth, you tear inside
And your vagina will be wide.
Do not kiss, you'll get an infection,
It will pass to your affection.
Do not speed your lovely car,
Can get into a crash if you didn't so far.
Do not love as love is hazy,
You'll go blind or go crazy.
Do not swim ‘cause you can drown
And the bottom will be your town.
Do not breathe as you'll be choked by smog,
Jog won't help you and you won't be agog.
Do not read as you'll spoil your eyes
And won't see the paradise.
Do not live, it's really hard,
It's not a walk on the boulevard.
Do not die, you'll be forgotten
And a grave is so rotten.
Don't be born, you won't have problems,
And …you won't hear my naughty poems.
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Leaves That Are Green
I was twenty-one years when I wrote this song
I'm twenty-two now but I won't be for long
Time hurries on
And the leaves that are green turn to brown
And they wither in the wind
And they crumble in your hand
Once my heart was filled with the love of a girl
I held her close but she faded in the night
Like a poem I meant to write
And the leaves that are green turn to brown
And they wither in the wind
And they crumble in your hand
I threw a pebble in a brook
And watched the ripple run away
And they never made a sound
And the leaves that are green turn to brown
And they wither in the wind
And they crumble in your hand
Hello, hello, hello, hello
Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye
That's all there is
And the leaves that are green turn to brown
And they wither in the wind
And they crumble in your hand
song performed by by Simon & Garfunkel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Deaf City
We cannot think alike,
and we cannot listen together.
The words change the colours
and the colours let go their charm.
A billowing smoke
fills the space between us.
We are searching
our destinies amidst the ruins
and life hangs like an empty frame.
The jaundiced view,
mars the beauty of cognition.
I stick to my long path,
though journey is tough.
The immaculate space fills my lungs.
I feel the thick, stellar thoughts
and climb over the contradictions.
Balance breaks, becomes the faint window.
The disorder lies within.
Green moments evaporate
I wither up in veins.
Heart misses the beat.
Standing in dark I hear
the sounds of a deaf city.
My eyes search,
the letterprint of a tranquil childhood.
poem by Satish Verma
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The Rainy Day
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.
My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.
Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Fading Shades of Gray
An autumn leaf descends toward a fire—
Slowly, like a feather in the soft wind.
Dehydrated, its orange body is crisp
And brittle enough to crumble in hand.
In the past few weeks, the branches above
Have grown barren—so quickly they have thinned—
And the brisk air has become harsh and cold
As if to say nature's warmth must expire.
What was once green covers in the thick smoke
That pillows up from the crackling land.
The smolder of time takes each fading shade.
Orange becomes red and black edges expand
‘Til the veins flow gray. The leaf, ashen-skinned,
Becomes the dust of seasons to transpire.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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A walk along the beach...
The sight of sunlight glinting on the water dazzling,
The sound of waves advancing softly on the sand,
The feeling of the suns warming kiss on my skin,
The cool dampness of the sand between my toes,
The gentle breeze moving through my hair,
Slipping across the water a yacht gliding silently,
The breeze filled sails carrying her to deeper waters,
Above me seagulls swirl singing their daily song,
Before diving down into the sea to snatch a fish,
The gentle breeze and warming sun feeding my soul,
The captivating pleasures of sight and sound so delightful,
I breathe in the wonderful scent of salt water that fills the air,
The intoxicating aroma of wildflowers thick along the cliffs,
A feeling of contentment fills every corner of my being,
As I walk along the beach I realise... Life is beauty...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
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Blown By The Wind
(bairnson)
All along the shoreline
There are footprints by the sea
They head into the distance...
Then they lead right back to me
I made the break to freedom
Now Im following the dream
Youre never going to get here
If you hold the old routine
Now everything we possess
That fills our empty lives
Is only good for leaving far behind
We are blown by the wind
Just like clouds in the sky
We dont know where were going,
Dont know why
We just ride with the wind
And well drive through the rain
We dont where well get to
Or if well get back again
Call along the valley
And you just may find us there
I couldnt say for certain
Cause we may be anywhere
Head into the sunset
Or just wander out to sea
Wherever your heart leads you
Is the place youre meant to be
And someone who could be impressed
With ordinary lies
Could really use a little peace of mind
We are blown by the wind
Just like clouds in the sky
We dont know where well go,
But well get by
We just ride with the wind
And well drive through the rain
We dont where well get to
Or if well get back again
Now everything we possess
That fills our empty lives
Is only good for leaving far behind
We are blown by the wind
Just like clouds in the sky
We dont know where were going,
Dont know why
We just ride with the wind
And well drive through the rain
We dont where well get to
Or if well get back again
Vocals eric stewart
Guitars ian bairnson
Drums stuart elliott
Bass john giblin
Keyboards gary sanctuary
song performed by by Alan Parsons Project
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Red Skies
that afternoon the skies are red
as tulips
the emotions however are like
stones
gray and dry
the world is sac-like
and one wonders
if music as a harmony
within the heart of
solitude
can still jibe
come to think about it
the active element
is still you
work it out then like
a piece of art
a sculpture of rivets
a canvass of smoke
a poem about chalk
and erasers,
diverse, reverse, collide
like water molecules
in sulfuric acid
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Information Clouds
Information clouds in my thoughts like smoke.
The more I seem to learn, the less I see.
Does all knowledge lie in obscurity
With purpose to augment doubt—to provoke?
Is there understanding that facts revoke,
A pollution spread by zealous study?
The more I seem to learn, the less I see.
Information clouds in my thoughts like smoke.
What does this heaviest of fogs evoke
Beyond its acherontic density?
Past these overcast skies, is space empty,
A void beneath this aerosol cloak?
Information clouds in my thoughts like smoke.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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Smoke Rings In The Dark
(rivers rutherford/houston robert)
Well I wont make you tell me
What Ive come to understand
Youre a certain kind of woman and
Im a different kind of man
Ive tried to make you love me
Youre tried to find a spark of the flame that burned and
Somehow turned to smoke ring in the dark
The loneliness within me
Takes a heavy toll
cause it burns as slow as whiskey through an empty aching soul and
The night is like a dagger
Long and cold and sharp
As I sit here on the front steps
Blowing smoke rings in the dark
I- i- I know I must be going
cause loves already gone and
All Im taking with me are the pieces of my heart and
All Ill leave are smoke rings in the dark
The rain falls where it wants to
Wind blows where it will
Everything on earth goes somewhere
But I swear were standin still
So Im not going to wake you
Ill go easy on your heart
Ill just touch your face and drift away
Like smoke rings in the dark
I- i- I know I must be going
cause loves already gone and
All Im taking with me are the pieces of my heart and
All Ill leave are smoke rings in the dark
song performed by by Gary Allan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ars Poetica....
poetry is
sensitivity,
it is feeling
what we cannot see
it is this vast
darkness
where we pierce
with the light
in our
hearts,
it glows
it traverses
dimensions,
it links
one
to another
they are these roots
intertwining
with tendrils
poetry is
awareness
about what others
fail to know
it is
a flow of emotion
carried by the
trailers of
words,
and sound and scent
and smoke
and mist and
dew
it is the syllabication,
of an imagination
about what
is real what is touched
what is loved
and what hurts the most.
poetry is a beating
a pulse
a timer, a heckle
a tickle,
a pause,
a seizure, a cough,
it is colds
and flu
and a viral infection
and at the same
time it can be
a leisurely walk at the park
with your dog
unleashed
and jumping with too much
happiness
it is the sound of
raindrops
tripping from
the leaking roof
dripping
in our room
to the
wooden floor
it is the fluttering
butterfly
drinking nectar
from flower to
flower
so gentle and
so fragile
it is a wood drifting
in a river
a letting go
wherever it is
taken.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If We Hold On Together
Dont lose your way
With each passing day
Youve come so far
Dont throw it away
Live believing
Dreams are for weaving
Wonders are waiting to start
Live your story
Faith, hope & glory
Hold to the truth in your heart
If we hold on together
I know our dreams will never die
Dreams see us through to forever
Where clouds roll by
For you and i
Souls in the wind
Must learn how to bend
Seek out a star
Hold on to the end
Valley, mountain
There is a fountain
Washes our tears all away
Words are swaying
Somebody is praying
Please let us come home to stay
If we hold on together
I know our dreams will never die
Dreams see us through to forever
Where clouds roll by
For you and i
When we are out there in the dark
Well dream about the sun
In the dark well feel the light
Warm our hearts, everyone
If we hold on together
I know our dreams will never die
Dreams see us through to forever
As high as souls can fly
The clouds roll by
For you and i
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love In The Air
Love in the Breeze.
At the nearly empty parking lot, near the supermarket,
two plastic bags danced in the spring breeze.
They elegantly circled each other, came near, almost
touched, but danced away from one another only to
meet again in a close circle; know they shyly touched.
A paper napkin with smeared lipstick on wanted to
join in, but the two plastic bags had only eyes for each
other. Deeply humiliated the napkin took refuge under
a car, but the car drove off and it had nowhere to hide.
So it began dancing alone, in slow motion, with eyes
closed as it was dreaming and the lipstick smiled.
A gust of wind came blew the napkin high into the sky
and away from the parking lot to a secret place of peace
only exploited paper napkins know of.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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A girl sat on a beach
A girl sat on a beach
An empty beach in solitude
Hundreds flocked around her
Alone resting on one arm
Legs to her side
The sun so high
Her frame so small
She left no shadow
She churned sand with a small red plastic spade
Glazed grains sifted
Sieved by a warm gentle breeze
Her family black hair, dry in the heat
Wild in the wind and salt
Her skin ever darkening
Pale blue pants ever lightening
She churned
With the rhythm of a dream
Slow time
Her time
A time where no one could touch her
So unlike the quiet moments at home.
poem by Chris Dawson
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Dripping Water
Dripping water, dripping water,
everywhere!
from the horizon of heaven,
on the land, on the sand,
makes me happy, and so elated,
Dripping water, dripping water,
everywhere!
from the dark black clouds,
on the leaves, on the tress,
gives them a slow quick bath,
Dripping water, dripping water,
everywhere!
from the thunderstruck light,
on the eyes, on the cheeks,
makes everyone to turn the face up!
Dripping water, dripping water,
everywhere!
from the beauty of sky,
onthe mud, on the rivers,
makes musical splashes when gets strike,
Dripping water, dripping water,
everywhere!
from the love of vast scream,
to the beautiful murmors of land,
makes me sing, and dance.
poem by Tayyeba Mustafa
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Smog
Smog, filthy, thick smog and the bitter cold,
fills my mind as I think back to my childhood.
Our noses would be black with it,
our lungs clogged with it.
Worse of all was the zero visibility,
a mugger's delight and a child's nightmare.
We would walk in groups, with torches,
trying not to trip or fall.
Inside my bedroom window, ice would form
and outside I'd see stalactites
hanging like daggers,
beautiful.
Each winter we'd freeze and shiver
with only one small coal fire to heat
a two up, two down
terraced house.
I used to wait for the coalman
by the alley, where our gate was.
He'd black hands, dirty face
and a broad grin.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Freshness is Beauty
Not fresh is she now to her spouse.
She is often put to the disuse,
Much to her disgust and despair.
Beauty deteriorating without use.
Fresh is still she, to other men
And hence appears a beauty
But guarded from any misuse,
Beauty decaying for want of use.
Fresh to him are other women
In whom he finds fresh beauty.
But he is fretted from straying,
Beauty suffering behind the bar.
Change of things – Beauty strives.
Change of mates – Passion lasts.
21.06.96
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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I Am At The Beach
i am at the beach
it is getting too dark to play
with my emotions
there is this woman against the wind
her clothes blown outlining the contours of her body
her hair black and long
she stares at the waves
getting bigger
i am watching her vigilant
on her next move
the sun sets sadly on her face
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Shakespeare's Beard
Thou hast wedged scissors in mine cranium,
Flaying thoughts by thy cutting wit's swift slice.
Mine mind had been filled hot helium,
A gas hovering above sound advice.
Perhaps I deserve leaking emissions
To deflate mine ego's poor decisions.
Perhaps as a floating, feral balloon,
I had embroached upon flight far too soon.
Regardless of mine fool-hardy actions
And flighty dreams of ignoble fancy,
Am I not worthy of benignancy?
Why must mine light air split in diffraction,
Scattering by thy sharp criticism?
Can I not have gentle mysticism?
poem by Tim Stensloff
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