I’ve Bought Flowers
You’re not far from this place,
But our separation is canyon-like.
Did you know I was grieved
For the sound of your voice
And the scent of your hair?
I’ve bought flowers
That I later tossed into the trash
Because I knew you would not accept them.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Exile
By the sad waters of separation
Where we have wandered by divers ways,
I have but the shadow and imitation
Of the old memorial days.
In music I have no consolation,
No roses are pale enough for me;
The sound of the waters of separation
Surpasseth roses and melody.
By the sad waters of separation
Dimly I hear from an hidden place
The sigh of mine ancient adoration:
Hardly can I remember your face.
If you be dead, no proclamation
Sprang to me over the waste, gray sea:
Living, the waters of separation
Sever for ever your soul from me.
No man knoweth our desolation;
Memory pales of the old delight;
While the sad waters of separation
Bear us on to the ultimate night.
poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In The Air
Like fresh blossoming flowers on a spring day.
Her scent is in the air.
Like the smell of rain right before it pours down.
Her scent is in the air.
Like the aroma of a hot apple pie cooling on the window seal.
Her scent is in air.
I try to cover my nose with my shirt
but her scent seeps right through it.
It is in the air.
I try fanning it away
but the more I fan the stronger her scent lofts in the air.
I decide not to fight it anymore and I inhale her scent.
It first suffocates me but then it sustains me.
To me her scent is love and it is
In the air.
Letter From Abélard To Héloïse
The separation were very painful
but still you are part of me
although it feels as if everything is coming to an end
but you remain inoculated into me, while my thoughts run wild,
life wanted to get me down,
but still you are part of me
while your loss and pain exhausts my body,
your voice have faded in my thoughts,
life wanted to get me down,
but vulnerable I dared to write love letters to you,
I wanted to press you against my chest,
your voice have faded in my thoughts,
but I have brought you back sharp from memories,
I could even smell your scent, feel your nearness,
wanted to press you against my chest,
I did mean my love in every letter to you.
The separation were very painful
I could even smell your scent, feel your nearness,
although it feels as if everything is coming to an end.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Think twice
Love grows thicker
Whether or not together
Are she and he,
As long as
Each longs for the other.
Separation is not the end
If inspiration lasts till the end.
A neem coated capsule.
Once the longing is gone
And he is out thrown
Separation is the end.
Desperation stays till the end.
A sweet coated venom.
For her, if he is
A hair cut off,
An unwanted one,
The hair leaves
Its life and its pain too.
She is no more
To him, nor any more.
Separation is a thrill
If the love persists.
21.09.99
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Tongue of One Who Gloats
You can block out every thought I have.
You can seal your consciousness into cement.
You can take every limited vision...
Pack those up to dust from rust.
Or tied them up with trash.
In a tossed out glad bag.
Then...
Sit back satisfied you silenced 'my' voice.
And manipulated my words for those of yours,
By choice.
But I am not the one who has labelled you a fool!
I don't carry thoughts like that in my mind.
Unlike the others behind me...
I don't find this the right time to rejoice.
Nor am I like you...
Either!
When I talk to myself...
I try to keep my private conversations,
Separate.
A lot of truth can be heard...
Slipping off the tongue of one,
Who gloats out loud about what has been done.
And that has been something done by you so well.
You can block out every thought I have.
You can seal your consciousness into cement.
You can take every limited vision...
Pack those up to dust from rust.
Or tied them up with trash.
In a tossed out glad bag.
And still...
What have you accomplished?
Invisibility?
Or a safe way to protect your delusions!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
She 'Is'...A Child Of God
I stood and observed her,
Searching for disgarded soda cans.
And picking through trash,
From a downtown corner garbage bin!
And as I observed her,
People waiting at a bustop...
Would laugh and begin to mock.
And she would return to them,
A warm inviting grin.
And observing this I began to think,
How peaceful she appeared.
With hair fresh and netted to keep in place.
And a face...
Beautiful and radiantly clear.
She knew 'something' immediately I felt,
Deep within me.
This woman knew exactly who she was.
And in her eyes...
There was not a sign shown she was in denial.
This woman knew exactly what happiness was.
And from where she directly obtained it!
Helpless she appeared.
But a few that observed her,
Like I did...
Knew,
What she kept inside of her endeared!
She did not have to be convinced!
She knew,
She 'is'...
A child of God!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Bought And Sold
Bought and sold.
Bought,
And sold.
Bought and sold...
As if no feelings I keep.
But deep inside I'm touched.
Nothing here is cheaply rushed.
Bought and sold...
On what to me has been told.
Not me I'm not of mush.
Nor easily crushed to dust.
Excesses on the cheapness of life,
Has made a weakness increase...
And,
Bought and sold.
Bought,
And sold.
Bought and sold.
Too many given anything.
Just to say they've gotten a piece,
To be...
Bought and sold.
Bought and sold...
On what to me has been told.
Not me I'm not of mush.
Nor easily crushed to dust.
Bought and sold...
As if no feelings I keep.
But deep inside I'm touched.
Nothing here is cheaply rushed.
Too many people take for granted and accept too easily.
To be sold,
On what they're told.
Too many people take for granted and accept too easily.
Bought and sold,
On what they're told.
Too many people take for granted and accept too easily.
To be sold,
On what they're told.
Bought and sold,
On what they're told.
Just...
To sell.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Jagged Edges
Imagine, yourself-no, be there! -in a canyon,
Crisscrossed with sharp steel edges,
Rim to rim,
The Grand Canyon of canyons;
You're at the bottom-
There is no way out
Unslicing yourself.
That's the blues, not the greens,
(Like the colored wedges) ,
You feel wedged in every day
In the canyon of imperfection.
poem by Stan Petrovich
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
No Trash Or Stray Cats
What if we all picked up trash?
What if we never needed cash?
What if we all fed a stray cat?
What if we all worked out on a yoga mat?
What if we never needed to say “you are sorry”,
What if we only knew we are God’s Glory?
What if we all knew we are from the One Soul?
What if we remembered what we forgot what we know?
What if we all lived passed two hundred and three?
What if there was no more crime or purgatory?
What if there was no pollution and no need for a solution?
What if there was no war and killing,
What if no more oil drilling?
What if we all lived in a Highly Evolved Society?
Then we would know and do all of the above,
because we all came from a place of love.
Then of course there would be no trash or stray cats.
Written By Christina Sunrise on December 30,2011
www.christinasunrise.com www.suechevalier.com
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Unknown Sonata
If I keep on looking at the moon, between the pines;
Leaves of pine cut in halves the mystic light of it,
Sometimes my whole being trembles at this,
I worry because the ancient tree gives me red signals of separation.
Sometimes I think I am incapable of love,
I was never able to hold delicate things in my wretched hands,
leaves, smoke, promises, joys, yellow flowers and your hair my love;
I am incompetent in the life of love, a poor player in the race of love.
Do not forsake me my love, my trophy;
sometimes glance at me as if I am your mirror,
The only difference is that this mirror will shatter in a thousand pieces,
when you open your hair…
This Mirror is incapable of reflecting your beauty,
Accept this miserable mirror,
It is incapable because it cannot forget,
it cannot withstand you without turning to pieces.
poem by Sarang Mangi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Your Cash Ain't Nothing But Trash
(c. calhoun)
Walking down the main drag one night
I met a fine chick that looked- just right
She stopped in and i flashed my roll
I told her she could have all of my dough
She turned around, and with a fround
She said this ain't no circus and i don't need a clown
Your cash ain't nothin' but trash
Your cash ain't nothin' but trash
Your cash ain't nothin' but trash
So there ain't no need in your hangin' around
Just to make the hit with that chick
I tried to get a cadillac right quick
The man at the place looked so strange
I had nine hundred bucks and some change
We disagreed, i tried to pleed
He said i ain't no chicken and i don't need your feed
Your cash ain't nothin' but trash
Your cash ain't nothin' but trash
Your cash ain't nothin' but trash
Then brother you're crawling we passed your speed
I'm walking and countin my bucks
The man with the gun said hands up
I tried to get away but i was too slow
He caught me and took all of my dough
I heard him shout, as he cut out
"you really lost nothing what you're crying about?"
Your cash ain't nothin' but trash
Your cash ain't nothin' but trash
Your cash ain't nothin' but trash
And he took my watch and i passed out
I woke in the arms of a big cop
Police station next stop
The judge swung his fist down plunk plunk
Twenty dollar fine 'cause you're drunk
Dig up the dough, and you can go
And all i had was a buffalo
Your cash ain't nothin' but trash
Your cash ain't nothin' but trash
Your cash ain't nothin' but trash
But i sure better get me some more
song performed by by Huey Lewis And The News
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
My Mothers Hair
One of your hairs fell out last night:
A piece of your life was gone without a sound.
I know a difficult day is coming,
My heart, pierced, utters a quiet cry.
Let my childhood smile again in the sun
And turn me into an innocent little head louse
So I can crawl through the jungle of your hair
And sing a song of darkness in its fragrance.
Under your fingernail-roof Ill sleep in my house;
In my black dream Ill water your black trees.
Ill pick black fruits, and hair-jungle bees
Will bring me black poems to be opened.
How will I live, without your hair?
How will I breathe, without its fragrance?
How will I survive, when I am discovered
By ghosts of wooden combs combing your hair?
Let me wear shows made of dawn-flowers
And crawl without a sound into your sleep.
Ill take the place of the hair that's gone
And sing of hair-clouds flying from night to day.
poem by Ovwigho Joseph Ovedje
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Yes, there is a story about Agent Orange, and we knew that it harmed our troops and we knew how long it was to get the medical community to accept that, the military to accept it, the VA to accept it.
quote by Christopher Shays
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Artificial Flowers
Artificial flowers to me are out of place.
You put them in your home
in a decorative vase.
They have no scent.
They look unreal
and collect too much dust.
Artificial flowers I suppose
are better than none.
But I'd rather have a petaled stem
even if it was just one.
A rose, a lily or violet
breathe like you and I.
Artificial flowers don't
even know how to die.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Courtroom Is Empty
the courtroom is empty,
the gavel untouched.
no hands on the book,
no jury of twelve.
(and the hands of the clock
have stopped!)
small children killed, tossed in the trash,
women abused, old people hungry, alone.
young girls sold into slavery
young boys sold into war
homeless ghosts walk the halls,
without hope in man or God.
and there's no sound, no feeling,
not even a breath of air
(and the hands of the clock
have stopped!)
an American tragedy,
or just human tragedy.
justice bought and sold,
afforded by just the few.
the wheels of Wall Street turn,
politicians barter with lives.
drinking the blood of the babies
that will never be born!
the takers keep taking,
and the honest man falls
to die nameless in the ditch,
covered by ashes and dust.
and there's no sound, no feeling,
not even a breath of air.
(the hands of the clock
have stopped!)
the courtroom is empty
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ladies Of The Canyon
Trina wears her wampum beads
She fills her drawing book with line
Sewing lace on widows weeds
And filigree on leaf and vine
Vine and leaf are filigree
And her coats a secondhand one
Trimmed with antique luxury
She is a lady of the canyon
Annie sits you down to eat
She always makes you welcome in
Cats and babies round her feet
And all are fat and none are thin
None are thin and all are fat
She may bake some brownies today
Saying, you are welcome back
She is another canyon lady
Estrella circus girl
Comes wrapped in songs and gypsy shawls
Songs like tiny hammers hurled
At beveled mirrors in empty halls
Empty halls and beveled mirrors
Sailing seas and climbing banyans
Come out for a visit here
To be a lady of the canyon
Trina takes her paints and her threads
And she weaves a pattern all her own
Annie bakes her cakes and her breads
And she gathers flowers for her home
For her home she gathers flowers
And estrella, dear companion
Colors up the sunshine hours
Pouring music down the canyon-
Coloring the sunshine hours
They are the ladies of the canyon
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Promises Of Twin-souls Un-kept
Both hearts knew, yet refused acclamation
Doubtful minds errantly rushing to accept
That true love unfulfill, by long separation
Alas…
The sacred promises of twin-souls un-kept
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In This Garden
In this garden
In this beautiful garden
The flowers and the grass
The stones and the water
The sculptures and all art
Sing a song
A song of beauty
A song of harmony
A song of hope
The wind whistles gently
Is it to the east?
Or is it to the west?
I don’t know and I don’t need to know
All is so beautiful
Hush…
Hush humanity
Hush…
I can feel the scent on y nostrils
The scent of the flowers
The sound of the water nearby welcoming
Peace
In this garden
In this beautiful garden
With beautiful flowers
Where art lives
Hush
Play the music
Let the flowers live the music
Let the drums be heard
Let the music come to life
Play the music
Let it be heard here today
In this garden
In this beautiful garden
With very beautiful flowers
Where art comes to life
poem by Jack Shaka
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mable
I met her sunday, that was yesterday
The girl I knew from 1990
Her eyes are hazel, her name is mable
I kissed her once and now Im able to
Walk a mile, crack a smile
She makes me want to kiss all the
Chorus
Babies, hug the puppy dogs
She makes me feel like a mom
Smell the flowers and plant a tree
I gotta say that mable -- shes the bomb
Now its monday, better than sunday
Mable told me that she would stay
Her curly hair shines in her eyes
Boy that mable sure is fine
Im with her now until I die
She makes me want to kiss all the
Chorus
Then on tuesday, mable left me
I heard shes goin out with charlie
She saw his package from what I know she said:
That looks like a tube of cookie dough!
Mine, she said then, looks like a small
Pencil with broken lead
Rabies got the puppy dogs
And now I really need my mom
I bought her flowers, so woest me
It sucks I still think mable -- shes the bomb
Rabies got the puppy dogs
And now I really need my mom
I bought her flowers, so woe is me
It sucks I still think mable -- shes the bomb
song performed by by Goldfinger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
To Prepare for You
To prepare for you
I scrub the soles of my feet
and cut my toenails.
I wash and brush my hair
Flicking it out with my fingers
so each strand will dry fast and sweet
in the breeze of the ceiling fan.
I smooth oil on my elbows, thighs, and knees;
brushing oil from my palms
over my nipples
so they’ll stick to your fingers.
I wrap myself in a silky sarong
choose a cunning earring
which will jangle in your bed
when I shake my hair over you.
Will you notice that I’ve cut my hair?
One side is longer than the other
but I won’t neaten it.
I’ll wear the earring on the long side.
I streak perfume through my hair.
Bought near the Jain temple
in Udaipur
palest green scent distilled from a root
dissolved in oil of sandalwood
Last time I left you
I could smell you in my hair all day.
poem by Kaye Aldenhoven
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!