On Catullus
Tell me not what too well I know
About the bard of Sirmio.
Yes, in Thalia’s son
Such stains there are—as when a Grace
Sprinkles another’s laughing face
With nectar, and runs on.
poem by Walter Savage Landor
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Sirmio
Sirmio, you jewel of all peninsulas
and all the islands of the crystal lakes
and the great oceans Neptune circles,
how delightedly, how gladly, I return,
hardly believing myself I’ve safely left
Thynia and those Black Sea shores behind.
What is better than to be free from care
when the mind throws off its load and, at last,
from foreign journeys, we reach our own home,
sink back to rest on the one bed we longed for?
This is reward enough for all our efforts.
You, welcome sight, O lovely Sirmio, be happy,
and you too, Lydian Lake Garda’s waters,
laugh, with whatever gleaming laughter you have.
poem by Gaius Valerius Catullus
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Laughing
I'm laughing at your funny face
I'm laughing at this funny place
I'm laughing in my space
I'm laughing at a fast pace
I'm laughing and cannot stop
I'm laughing feeling the bop
I'm laughing at your top
I'm laughing with a cop
My stomach hurts
My cheeks are sore
Yet I want to laugh some more
Just want to laugh day and night
Want to laugh 'cause it feels alright
I'm laughing with Pat
I'm laughing at the cat
I'm laughing at the mat
I'm laughing as the cat sat
Giggle, Giggle, Giggle
Giggle, Giggle, Giggle
Giggle, Giggle.
©Copyright 2010 Willmington. All rights reserved
poem by Somniator Moon
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The rain is gone
You got wet clothes to dry
A face to wipe some droplets of rain
Some stains
On your breasts
Kissing stains
Some bluish marks
On your thighs
You always say
These things, stains and bluing
Happen
Because of the rain
The rain that refuses to leave at once
And you are caught to his embrace
You always say the rain
Is responsible, one season to blame
Why these things, these stains cling to your body
The thoughts of rain
Leaving
Saddens you now
How you wish the rain comes back
The stains caused by him smells and
The scent of sweat makes you sway, gives
You the feeling of
Stay, I love you, stay, do not go away.
Wonder, how the rain could have removed
The stains, smell, sweat, but you say
The rain causes it, he cannot leave you
He still has the fear of getting rainy wet.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Life is nectar
Beginning is poison
End is nectar
No no
Beginning is nectar
Middle is nectar
End is also nectar
Whole things
Whole activities
Is only nectar
Enjoy the life
Life is not bitter
Life is nectar.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Catullus: XXXI
(After passing Sirmione, April 1887.)
Sirmio, thou dearest dear of strands
That Neptune strokes in lake and sea,
With what high joy from stranger lands
Doth thy old friend set foot on thee!
Yea, barely seems it true to me
That no Bithynia holds me now,
But calmly and assuringly
Around me stretchest homely Thou.
Is there a scene more sweet than when
Our clinging cares are undercast,
And, worn by alien moils and men,
The long untrodden sill repassed,
We press the pined for couch at last,
And find a full repayment there?
Then hail, sweet Sirmio; thou that wast,
And art, mine own unrivalled Fair!
poem by Thomas Hardy
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I can't sprinkle sprinkles on. I lose control when I have sprinkles. I'm shaky. I still remember the great sprinkle accident of 1982.
quote by Ryan Stiles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Teardrop On The Face Of Time
Time, never ending, everlasting
takes its toll on all.
And as each moment passes
a teardropp starts to fall.
History passes and plays its part.
How did it end?
How did it start?
With people
laughing, crying
living, dying
and then repeating again.
With people
never learning
always yearning
to become free men.
But a teardropp on the face of time
stains the face it's on.
And never does it really dry
for it's never really gone.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Essence of a Stain
Some people are always obsessed
with washing out stains
ashamed of what the stand for
but what do stains truly stand for?
Stains show a part of our character
- what is a tattoo
other than a bodily stain
revealing a small part
of our inner character
to the outside world
even stains can be seen in a positive light
poem by Gregory Allen Uhan
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Poet And Peer
They asked the Bard of Ayr to dine;
The banquet hall was fit and fine,
With gracing it a Lord;
The poet came; his face was grim
To find the place reserved for him
Was at the butler's board.
So when the gentry called him in,
He entered with a knavish grin
And sipped a glass of wine;
But when they asked would he recite
Something of late he'd chanced to write
He ettled to decline.
Then with a sly, sardonic look
He opened up a little book
Containing many a gem;
And as they sat in raiment fine,
So smug and soused with rosy wine,
This verse he read to them.
'You see yon birkie caw'ed a Lord,
Who struts and stares an' a' that,
Though hundreds worship at his word
He's but a coof for a' that.
For a' that and a' that,
A man's a man for a' that.
He pointed at that portly Grace
Who glared with apoplectic face,
While others stared with gloom;
Then having paid them all he owed,
Burns, Bard of Homespun, smiled and strode
Superbly from the room.
poem by Robert William Service
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On The Soft And Gentle Motions Of Eudora
Divine Thalia strike th' Harmonious Lute,
But with a Stroke so Gentle as may sute
The silent gliding of the Howers,
Or yet the calmer growth of Flowers;
Th' ascending or the falling Dew,
Which none can see, though all find true.
For thus alone,
Can be shewn,
How downie, how smooth,
Eudora doth Move,
How Silken her Actions appear,
The Aire of her Face,
Of a gentler Grace
Then those that do stroke the Eare.
Her Address so sweet,
So Modestly Meet,
That 'tis not the Lowd though Tuneable String,
Can shewforth so soft, so Noyseless a Thing!
O This to express from thy Hand must fall,
Then Musicks self, something more Musical.
poem by Anne Killigrew
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Sonnet: A Poet’s Dream
I dreamt I turn’d into a rose flower,
That’d fully blossomed, looking so lovely!
Because I wished to be a bee-lover,
One morn as dawn came on very stealth’ly.
I was a rose, red-petaled and much pretty,
Emitting fragrance really very sweet!
My lover-bee buzz’d on to me happily,
Hovering around, with his rhythmic wing-beat.
“Good morning sweetheart! ” it said and kissed me.
“I’ve flown for miles, seeking your divine face, ”
“O spare me some nectar for I’m thirsty,
And some more nectar for my kids, in case.”
“O bee-lover! All my nectar’s for thee;
Only promise to always visit me! ”
poem by John Celes
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A Need For Mercy
It was God’s Grace that I received, on that day when I believed.
Today it’s God’s Mercy that I need, and on this very day indeed.
I need God to intervene for me, so His hand of Grace I may see.
To see His hand in my life today, while working in a special way.
It was Grace that saved me first, when in sin, I was at my worst,
And for Mercy, did not receive, those eternal wages, due to me.
As it was totally of God’s Grace, when His Son died in my place,
When Christ forgave all my sin, and God The Father took me in.
Now He is at God’s Right Hand, where for us He takes a stand,
Where Christ intervenes for me, and all others who truly believe.
And so at times I seek His face, that I may receive God’s Grace,
That I may have Mercy from God, instead of His chastising Rod.
God’s Mercy is abundant friend, with Grace sufficient to the end.
When I face a day filled with strife, I need God’s Grace in my life.
But if Mercy to me does not come, I receive Grace from His Son,
And Christ’s Grace is sufficient to, guide me always fully through.
So today I’ll lean upon The Lord, whose Grace always will endure,
This through any trial in any pain, for my life He will surely sustain.
For it’s only by His Mercy I’ll be, in Heaven with Christ for Eternity.
And very soon by God’s Grace, above I will see my Savior’s face.
(Copyright ©01/2006)
My Last Dream
If you look,
you still can
find empty
Summer meadows….
where paths
and roads
are made
of grass….
there, early
Rabbits run
wild through
pink eyed
flowers….
and the Sun
sprinkles mornings
with dew-
dripping showers.
But later as
the late sun runs….
you sleep,
as
candy floss
blossoms
drift down
to colour
the black
picnic cloth.
And now...
you are gone.
My Name That Runs
Underneath the sea stands a river of silk and milk that runs,
Opening thoughts of you, the dispute of a month that runs.
I have a maze of worries that tortures the depths of the mind,
Offering me a solution shall be the ocean that is the millionth that runs.
One person is one antagonist, the anatomy of whom excretes blood,
Fetching horrible nightmares like those heroes of the labyrinth that runs.
Let the heavens be attached to the barbarians and soldiers,
One masters them as a battle that rages on as the zillionth that runs.
One will escape the rigours of youth to face a war on the frontline,
Battle systems need generals and wizards of the heavens, the seventh that runs.
I have my name engraved like a stone of weight, the grave so morbid,
One masters my writing as if the relics are as morbid as the trillionth that runs.
poem by Naveed Akram
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To Lady Firebrace
At length must Suffolk beauties shine in vain,
So long renown'd in B-n's deathless strain?
Thy charms at least, fair Firebrace, might inspire
Some zealous bard to wake the sleeping lyre:
For such thy beauteous mind and lovely face,
Thou seem'st at once, bright nymph, a
Muse and Grace
.
poem by Samuel Johnson
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Three Flower Petals
When saw I yesterday walking apart
In a leafy place where the cattle wait?
Something to keep for a charm in my heart-
A little sweet girl in a garden gate.
Laughing she lay in the gold sun's might,
And held for a target to shelter her,
In her little soft fingers, round and white,
The gold-rimmed face of a sunflower.
Laughing she lay on the stone that stands
For a rough-hewn step in that sunny place,
And her yellow hair hung down to her hands,
Shadowing over her dimpled face.
Her eyes like the blue of the sky, made dim
With the might of the sun that looked at her,
Shone laughing over the serried rim,
Golden set, of the sunflower.
Laughing, for token she gave to me
Three petals out of the sunflower;-
When the petals are withered and gone, shall be
Three verses of mine for praise of her,
That a tender dream of her face may rise
And lighten me yet in another hour,
Of her sunny hair and her beautiful eyes,
Laughing over the golden sunflower.
poem by Archibald Lampman
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Woke Up Laughing
(robert palmer)
I was waiting for you
I was sat in the sun
I could picture your face on the tip of my tongue
I woke up laughing
I broke into a sweat
I broke into a run
You were hot in my heels so I hired a gun
I woke up laughing
I was flat on my back
I was taking a plunge
It was making a stand but my plan was undone
I woke up laughing
Well I planned an escape for the middle of june
But I drug too fast and I fire too soon
I woke up laughing
Woke up laughing
You make yourself a fortune, out in hong kong
You sit at home and wonder whether you were wrong
You take a small vacation just to keep sane
You find on your return your home has blown away
You meditate, you make haste
You run a risk, you come late,
You pay a bill, you lose face
Youre not fully unaware
Your star or your fate
If you fall do you break
You go to war, you make love
You sign out in a box
Repeat whole song
song performed by by Robert Palmer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pain runs through my body
Pain runs through my body, and I don't need anymore.
Pain runs through my body, so leave me alone you whore.
Pain runs through my blood, as I start to bleed.
Pain runs through my body, and love is what I need.
Pain runs through my body, everyday of my life.
Pain runs through my body, as I pick up the knife.
Pain runs through my body, as I put it through my chest.
Pain runs through my body and I think you know the rest.
poem by Ari Castillo
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The Girls May Lose
The garden of fragrant flowers,
Saw her running towards, orders,
The buds to bloom and disperse,
The scent to her perfumed hair,
On smelling the new fragrance,
The butterflies escape from cocoons,
Assuming her face for a flower,
They swirl around her in trance,
To suck the sweet nectar,
Too afraid to face the intruders,
She runs away to have the shelter,
In the arms of a masked human, a spoiler,
Thinking of him as a rescuer,
Assuming him as a wonderful lover,
The girls may lose their peace for a favor,
the girls who hang out for fun,
may lose their peace to a con.
boys not carry the loads to remember,
but the girls carry to think and despair.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Sense of Humor
I don't understand?
What's not to be believed?
You have never been told the truth...
And now you are seeking clarity?
How would you recognize it?
You have shown me no evidence.
I provided you the comfort of calling me a fool!
If I truthfully believed that...
I would not be here now staring in the face of one!
You may have made fun of me at my expense,
But I'm the one that's been laughing all this time.
OH...
I get it now.
You thought I was laughing 'with' you and the others,
Laughing at me?
No...
I'm not sadistic.
I have a sense of humor myself.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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