Birds Fly
A little too tall for me
Beautiful flowing hair
Over a tailored jacket
Purse and matching - - - - - -
Those long legs
Then she turned
I saw the face with
The same sharp crisp lines
The rest of her had promised
She went walking by - - - - -
Not for me
Just to get by
The strides
The way her jacket swung
Draping her as she walked
It was like watching a bird
Through your shaded window
As it pauses on your lawn
Unless something makes a noise
Then birds fly
poem by Tom J. Mariani
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
A Woman’s Jacket
She thought that I
Was a simple servant
To hang a woman’s jacket
When she enters a room,
To remain downcast
Despite the aroma of her perfume.
I had no desire to undeceive her;
I happened to be there
To visit her husband,
A friend from a former life,
But once I saw his wife,
I had no intentions
To become reacquainted with him.
I gazed at the splendor of her hair,
The majesty of her shoulders,
The elegant way she walked.
I then took her perfumed jacket
Like an obliging servant
And swiftly slipped out of the house
With that jacket and my lovely thoughts.
Perhaps, in a few more years,
I’ll attempt to visit my friend again.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Men
When I was young, I used to
Watch behind the curtains
As men walked up and down the street. Wino men, old men.
Young men sharp as mustard.
See them. Men are always
Going somewhere.
They knew I was there. Fifteen
Years old and starving for them.
Under my window, they would pauses,
Their shoulders high like the
Breasts of a young girl,
Jacket tails slapping over
Those behinds,
Men.
One day they hold you in the
Palms of their hands, gentle, as if you
Were the last raw egg in the world. Then
They tighten up. Just a little. The
First squeeze is nice. A quick hug.
Soft into your defenselessness. A little
More. The hurt begins. Wrench out a
Smile that slides around the fear. When the
Air disappears,
Your mind pops, exploding fiercely, briefly,
Like the head of a kitchen match. Shattered.
It is your juice
That runs down their legs. Staining their shoes.
When the earth rights itself again,
And taste tries to return to the tongue,
Your body has slammed shut. Forever.
No keys exist.
Then the window draws full upon
Your mind. There, just beyond
The sway of curtains, men walk.
Knowing something.
Going someplace.
But this time, I will simply
Stand and watch.
Maybe.
poem by Maya Angelou
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A walk in the countryside
What a lovely day for a walk
a nice ramble in the countryside
take in all the lovely scenery
the flowers, the fields, the birds.
What's that over there in the distance?
something Red in colour by that hedge.
I hope it's a Fox they are beautiful,
it hasn't moved so I may get up close.
What a let down it's a traffic cone!
Hope I see something more interesting
than a stupid traffic cone on my walk.
What's that rustling noise?
Could be a Pheasant or a Partridge,
on closer inspection I see the noise
is not from a bird but a bloody crisp packet!
As I walk on I tread in Cow dung, fag packets,
used condoms, and endless empty beer cans.
I've been walking for over an hour now
and along with the cans and the crisp packets
I've seen two Tesco trolleys, a Microwave Oven,
and a motorbike lying in a small stream.
The British countryside in all it's beauty,
with the wind in your hair and dog mess
stuck to the bottom of your boots!
poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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So Beautiful
The way her lips poked out from her face, so beautiful
The way her hair laid across her face
Just those few strades of hair would do it
So beautiful
When her face wrenkle up when she's mad
Not all that beautiful but still
So beautiful
When she sit down how her legs chris-cross
Makes you wanna bit yo bottom lip
Making your lips whispper
Something like this...
She's So Beautiful
poem by Ardimus Caldwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gold-Tipped Boots, Black Jacket And Tie
I'm battered and bruised. I got lines I can't use.
My head won't deliver. Well, I'm sold down the river.
But I'm turning again.
And I'm turning again.
Wearing gold-tipped boots, black jacket and tie.
Well, I've been second to none:
this horse was ready to run.
Now I'm has-been and used:
disarmed and de-fused
but I'm turning again.
Yes, 'n' I'm turning again.
I'm turning again.
Wearing gold-tipped boots, black jacket and tie.
I'm egg over-easy
and I'm washing-up squeezy.
Appliance for sale:
fat wind in your sail
and I'm turning again.
Well, I'm turning again.
Yes, 'n' I'm turning again.
Wearing gold-tipped boots, black jacket and tie.
Well, I'm turning again
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A lady came up to me on the street and pointed to my suede jacket. 'You know a cow was murdered for that jacket' she sneered. I replied in a psychotic tone, 'I didn't know there were any witnesses. Now I'll have to kill you too.'
quote by Jake Johanson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gold-tipped Boots, Black Jacket & Tie
Im banered and bruised. I got lines I cant use.
My head wont deliver. well, Im sold down the river.
But Im turning again.
Yes, 'n Im turning again.
Well, Im turning again.
And Im turning again.
Wearing gold-tipped boots, black jacket and tie.
Well, Ive been second to none:
This horse was ready to run.
Now Im has-been and used:
Disarmed and de-fused
But Im turning again.
And Im turning again.
Yes, 'n Im turning again.
Im turning again.
Wearing gold-tipped boots, black jacket and tie.
Im egg over-easy
And Im washing-up squeezy.
Appliance for sale:
Fat wind in my sail
And Im turning again.
Yes, 'n Im turning again.
Well, Im turning again.
Yes, 'n Im turning again.
Wearing gold-tipped boots, black jacket and tie.
Well, Im turning again.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Birds Chattering Inside Your Mouth...
the birds in your mouth
chatter, one bird has blue feathers
and it makes the sweetest song,
the white bird keeps mum over
all these caged noise,
perhaps it understands the language
of the soul,
there is a brick red sparrow
looking out the window
it is speaking in tongues
as i listen attentively and watch all these
within the fences of your face
i feel, but i have to be honest
there is nothing that i understand,
i do not wish to
i have had enough, of those blue, red,
and white birds.
but they must all agree that it is not the song
not their songs, but their
common cage, for not one of them
has uttered the nicest word in the
history of captives,
freedom.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Counting The Mad
This one was put in a jacket,
This one was sent home,
This one was given bread and meat
But would eat none,
And this one cried No No No No
All day long.
This one looked at the window
As though it were a wall,
This one saw things that were not there,
This one things that were,
And this one cried No No No No
All day long.
This one thought himself a bird,
This one a dog,
And this one thought himself a man,
An ordinary man,
And cried and cried No No No No
All day long.
poem by Donald Justice
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The Most That We Can Be
ah, shy away from
imitation
there is no one
worth it
see yourself in the mirror
what fine hair you have
what sharp eyes
what big beautiful body
what strong arm
what long and muscled
legs
you are the most beautiful
man that you are
there is no other
be the most of what you can be
there is no other
you anyway
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Your Sleep
In your sleep
Brando was alive again
playing an old wild one
with leather jacket
and slippers,
riding a three wheeled scooter,
and Marilyn Monroe
promised to kiss you
if you could recite
a Dylan Thomas poem
in French or Latin,
and your father came
in the dark robes of death
carrying the grey ashes
of your first burnt poem,
and Ezra Pound made a visit
to your writing room
insisting he’d written
more of those Cantos
from the other side
of the some god's light,
and as you turned over
seeking a comfortable position
in your long sleep,
you thought you lay
face to face
with Greta Garbo,
her eyes peering
into yours,
her lips waiting
to be touched.
In your sleep
someone wiped your brow,
kissed your cheek,
and recited
the Pater Noster
in your ear
and lay your arms
crossed on your breast,
muttering of eternal rest.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Little Sam So Sweet
LITTLE SAM SO SWEET
Mrs. Levine who is tall and quite lean,
has the cutest little dog you have ever seen,
Sam is a little Yorkie who is tiny and short,
sits in Mrs. Levine’s purse like a sweet mini tort.
Sam the little Yorkie has very silky black hair,
he will not wear a jacket and it’s not that he doesn’t care,
just to him he doesn’t need any extra fashion flair.
Sam will walk real quick with Mrs. Levine
gliding in front of her he prances with his small feet.
His eyes are hidden from hairs so long,
he doesn’t mind he still gets along-
gets along with Tashi the Shih Tzu dog,
they walk happily together in the early morning fog.
Then one night they almost got caught in the rain,
it was O.K. they went inside the condo to play.
Now if you see Sam with Mrs. Levine,
say “Hi” and give Little Sam a little dog treat.
Written By Suzae Chevalier on December 21,2011
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tech Jacket shares the same tone as Invincible, but the subject matter is very different. Where Invincible is about perfection, Tech Jacket is about flaws.
quote by Robert Kirkman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bipolar Weather
My state is bipolar
One day it's 70 out side
The next its below freezing and snowing
If you wear a jacket one day, your gonna die from a heat wave
The if you don't wear a jacket one day, your gonna freeze like a popsicle and die of
Hypothermia
Make up your mind
poem by Autumn Winds
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Noise
The noise that disturbs your neighbour is like,
A swimmer without a life-jacket!
But, i will live to lead you on peacefully;
However, this noise around you is like a hammer hitting the head of the nail.
The noise that disturbs your neighbour is like,
Creating the silent war within your neighbourhood!
And like the heart of a summer around many others;
For, i know when it matters most.
Try to learn and try to live with one another,
Try to do your best without disturbing your neighbour!
For, this noise will surely not bring you peace among them.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Little Sam So Sweet
LITTLE SAM SO SWEET
Mrs. Levine who is tall and quite lean,
has the cutest little dog you have ever seen,
Sam is a little Yorkie who is tiny and short,
sits in Mrs. Levine’s purse like a sweet mini tort.
Sam the little Yorkie has very silky black hair,
he will not wear a jacket and it’s not that he doesn’t care,
just to him he doesn’t need any extra fashion flair.
Sam will walk real quick with Mrs. Levine
gliding in front of her he prances with his small feet.
His eyes are hidden from hairs so long,
he doesn’t mind he still gets along-
gets along with Tashi the Shih Tzu dog,
they walk happily together in the early morning fog.
Then one night they almost got caught in the rain,
it was O.K. they went inside the condo to play.
Now if you see Sam with Mrs. Levine,
say “Hi” and give Little Sam a little dog treat.
Written By Suzae Chevalier on December 21,2011
poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Senses Coalesce
He was put in a jacket,
He was sent home,
He was given breakfast,
But he couldnt eat home,
His senses coalesce,
And he cried , no no no
All day long
He looked at the window
As thought it were a wall
He saw things that werent there
Nothing at all
His senses coalesce
And he cried , no no no
All day long
He thought himself a bird
This time flying high
He tought himself a man
An ordinary man
His senses coalesce
And he cried , no no no
All day long
song performed by by Xymox
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Senses Coalesce
He was put in a jacket,
He was sent home,
He was given breakfast,
But he couldnt eat home,
His senses coalesce,
And he cried , no no no
All day long
He looked at the window
As thought it were a wall
He saw things that werent there
Nothing at all
His senses coalesce
And he cried , no no no
All day long
He thought himself a bird
This time flying high
He tought himself a man
An ordinary man
His senses coalesce
And he cried , no no no
All day long
song performed by by Xymox
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Pigeon
I've picked up your name from the floor
and held it for long on the palm of my hand
watching it gently peck its lines
until there remained nothing not a single crumb
and your name well fed slept for a while
in lines of death in lines of life
in lines of the head and lines of the heart
in intricate patterns that sealed me for too long
there was a lullaby I wanted to sing
but I was not able to open my mouth
for fear you'll wake up and disappear
and I promised myself I would never dropp you again
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Missed the End.
Your father used to put
a folded white handkerchief
in the top pocket
of your jacket
and combed your hair
which he'd plastered
with Brylcream first
and even dampened
your eyebrows
to get them to lay down
with his spittled finger
and took you with him
to the movies
to watch cowboy
or war films
or now and then
those romantic ones
with kissing
and too much talk
which although good
you would avoid
if you could
and he took you
to your granddad and gran
and you sat there
bored out of your brain
watching the goldfish
swim round and round
the glass fish bowl
and him talking
about this or that
and once you recall
at a Friday evening treat
at the movies
he'd run off into
the dark
and you sat
watching the film
until an usherette came
and said
your daddy's had
a choking fit
and he's in the foyer
having a rest in a chair
and so you missed
the end of the film
as she took you off
to see him there.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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