Covering Two Years
This nothingness that feeds upon itself:
Pencils that turn to water in the hand,
Parts of a sentence, hanging in the air,
Thoughts breaking in the mind like glass,
Blank sheets of paper that reflect the world
Whitened the world that I was silenced by.
There were two years of that. Slowly,
Whatever splits, dissevers, cuts, cracks, ravels, or divides
To bring me to that diet of corrosion, burned
And flickered to its terminal.--Now in an older hand
I write my name. Now with a voice grown unfamiliar,
I speak to silences of altered rooms,
Shaken by knowledge of recurrence and return.
poem by Weldon Kees
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Covering Two Years
This nothingness that feeds upon itself:
Pencils that turn to water in the hand,
Parts of a sentence, hanging in the air,
Thoughts breaking in the mind like glass,
Blank sheets of paper that reflect the world
Whitened the world that I was silenced by.
There were two years of that. Slowly,
Whatever splits, dissevers, cuts, cracks, ravels, or divides
To bring me to that diet of corrosion, burned
And flickered to its terminal.-Now in an older hand
I write my name. Now with a voice grown unfamiliar,
I speak to silences of altered rooms,
Shaken by knowledge of recurrence and return.
poem by Weldon Kees
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Crown Of A Poet
When my pens are all dried up
And my writing on Earth is done
I will then take off my tarnished crown
And I will hand it off to my son.
To continue the writing that I have started
As from this world I have parted.
A poet my son he will become
To reflect his life in rhyme
To bring forth beauty and wonder of himself
Which will take a never ending life.
For the last poem is like a kiss,
For one is born whenever there is a wish.
A poets pencil is his best friend
And a piece of paper is his canvas of white
To paint the words that have been unpainted
And to stir the soul and open the mind.
To bring forth again the smiles and tears,
That has been locked away for so many years.
And when my pencils have all been broken
And my writing pads are burnt in fire
I will then loose my poetry crown
As I will seek a higher power.
Where my poems will be written upon the sky
Where tears again I will never cry.
My tarnished crown will become my sons
To write on Earth what he sees best
To write during the day and at night to pray
For a poet, as he knows no rest.
For sleep does seldom ever come.
To the one whose fingers are always numbed.
And when his hands are old and tired
The Lord then will give him his sleep
For a job isn't finished until the Lord says so
But then never again will He weep.
And then my crown I will give to my son,
So the dream of ours, will never be done.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Hand-Me-Down!
got my hand-me-down boots,
and my hand-me-down jeans.
my broke down hand-me-down hat,
doing hand-me-down things.
my hand-me-down fire,
and my hand-me-down pot.
take a hand-me-down chair,
i'll share what i've got.
got some hand-me-down thoughts,
a couple of hand-me-down songs.
i've got a hand-me-down heart
that wont leave you alone.
we'll talk about hand-me-down freedom,
and hand-me-down truth....
in this hand-me-down world,
it's just me and you!
in this hand-me-down world....
paying hand-me-down dues!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The End
Matadors, monkeys, a million balloons
As we walk through the sea to the sand
Knowing full well that we're perfectly tuned
As we skip through our hearts hand in hand
Will Jenny be older
Will music be heard
Will we all meet again
At the end of the world
No sense in fooling, we're covered in dreams
Having too much fun flying to land
Floating waist high in ten colours of green
We're so small but we feel oh so grand
Will Jenny be older
Will music be heard
Will we all meet again
At the end of the world
End of the world
Will Jenny be older
Will music be heard
Will we all meet again
At the end of the world
The end of the world
On tuesday
The end of the world
Pop goes the world
The end of the world
In the name of angels
Pop goes the world
On Tuesday
The end of the world
The real world
song performed by by Men Without Hats
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Speak to me Gently
Speak to me gently
words as soft as a sea breeze
Touch me with your hands
as well as your heart
Let us swim in the ocean
and feel its passion
Let me smile
to put your mind at ease
Hand in hand we dance
slowly together
Virtually motionless
suspended in time
Drifting slowly
Held firmly together
A tender embrace
Sustained everlasting
Look at me closely
Feel my deepest thoughts
Let your heart beat with mine
Speak to me gently
And my heart will listen
Touched by sincerity
Nurtured with love
Joined together
Hand in hand
And heart to heart
We live, we breathe
Within each other
poem by William Lindenmuth
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That Was Many Years Ago
I was told many years ago,
By a college professor...
I had a tendency to write and speak,
Too lofty.
And 'if' I seriously wanted to communicate,
My thoughts for others to comprehend...
That I should perceive my audience,
To have mentalities of Third grade school children.
Well...
I did say that was many years ago.
Today...
No matter what I write or how I speak,
I am often asked 'WHERE' I am from?
So tempted am I to say...
'Somewhere your parents should have dropped you off.
Instead of wishing intelligence upon you.'
But,
Of course...
I keep those kind of comments to myself.
Especially today,
When I would only get a blank stare in return.
Or someone telling me to go back to Africa.
You know...
By those who are not believing Africa to be a huge continent,
With places far more advanced than TV depicts.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Blank Page Blues
I know we have all done it,
sat in front of a pristine white sheet of paper
and got ready to write something down,
and then we are confronted
with the blank page blues.
The words of inspiration
then scurry and hide away.
You are left with pen in hand,
scratching your head
wondering what to say.
There is no cure for this syndrome;
writers get it all the time.
Some call it a writer’s block,
when nothing comes into your head.
You sit in front of a blank page.
You know what you want to write,
then someone disturbs you
and the words disappear out of sight.
How many times have we had that?
We sit down to write our masterpiece
and the telephone rings,
or someone shouts your dinner is getting cold.
You feel like screaming,
but you take it on the chin.
You lay down your pen,
answer the phone or have your dinner,
and when you come back,
the blank page confronts you.
Still you cannot write anything on it.
You stare at it for hours,
until finally you get tired
and journey off to bed.
Hoping and hoping tomorrow
a little peace, it will bring
and your words on that blank page
will really begin to sing.
10 May 2008
poem by David Harris
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Blank Sheet Of Paper
I'm just a blank sheet of paper
This fool's about to write you a letter
To tell you that he's sorry
For the way he did you wrong
To ask for forgiveness
For leaving you alone
He's been looking down at me seems like forever
he takes the top on and off his pen
It's like he can't decide
Just what he wants to say
If he'd just tell the truth
I'd be on my way
Chorus
But he just stares at me
And i just stare at him
He don't know where to start
To say he doesn't want it to end
And now it's one hour later (four hours later)
I am still a blank sheet of paper
Sunlight is shining through the curtains
He's almost asleep pen in hand
There's a tear in his eye
That refuses to fall
If it would land on me
That would say it all
Repeat Chorus
And he just stares at me
And i just stare at him
He don't know where to start
To say he wants it back again
And now one broken heart later
I am still a Blank sheet of paper
song performed by by Tim McGraw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chains
An hour since the sundown
The ghosts are creepin in
Are gathering around me
Like starlings in the wind
Dark shapes gather round
Voices like my brother's
Are whispering to me
But I don't know these others
Who want to set me free
Come home you're out of time
But the life cannot let go
It's a chain cuts across my soul
Anchoring in this world
I put my hand into the flame
Burning but I feel no pain
Don't speak, don't speak my name
Hold on to this life of chains
The door is standing open
But I'm too tired to be afraid
My whole life's in this moment
I've been fighting all the way
Just need a little more time
Cuz the life just can't let go
It's a chain cuts across my soul
Anchoring in this world
I put my hand into the flame
Burning but I feel no pain
Don't speak, don't speak my name
Hold on to this life of chains
Nah nah nah nah nah x6
I put my hand into the flame
Burning but I feel no pain
Don't speak, don't speak my name
Hold on to this life of chains
Chains...chains...chains...
song performed by by Duran Duran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Like To Think That You Are Much Better Than Myself, But...
you are years ahead
i like you to think that you are much better
in terms of compassion
knowledge had always been
younger than compassion
yet compassion is as meek
as it is not assertive
i like to think that you are much better
but you have not lived that much
you are never water to fire
never a tree to a bird
you have taken side with the ax
and the flint
there is so much blood around
the rocks are bathing
confusion flows to the sea
the rivers are willing victims
you put gasoline on chaos
and you dance around that big fire
i like to think that you are older and much better
than myself
but your hands have grown nails and splinters of glass
and like a hand grenade
you finally exploded and killed so many and
died
i like to think that i should have done better
you have nailed my feet on the floor and splinters wound my soles
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hand Over Fist
Words by neil peart, music by geddy lee and alex lifeson
Hand over fist
Paper around the stone
Scissors cut the paper
Cut the paper to the bone
Hand over fist
Paper around the stone
Scissors cut the paper
And the rock must stand alone
I could disappear into the crowd
But not if I keep my head in the clouds
I could walk away so proud
Its easy enough if you dont laugh too loud
I thought I was okay alone
Wait for the postman and the telephone
Lost in a world of my own
I thought I could run alone
Thought I could run through the night alone
Hand over hand
Doesnt seem so much
Hand over hand
Is the strength of the common touch
You talk as we walk along
You never imagined I could be so wrong
Humming your favorite song
You know Ive hated that song for so long
How can we ever agree?
Like the rest of the world
We grow farther apart
I swear you dont listen to me
Holding my hand to my heart
Holding my fist to my racing heart
Take a walk outside myself
In some exotic land
Greet a passing stranger
Feel the strength in his hand
Feel the world expand
I feel my spirit resist
But I open up my fist
Lay hand over hand over
Hand over fist
song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Today's Blank Wall
just this day
i face a blank wall
it is enticing
its white hand is signaling me to write my thoughts on it
it is empty and wants to be full
just like myself perhaps who knows
i will disappoint it in the same manner that you have
disappointed me
i will not go near it
i will not say a word
i will not write anything
but i will tell it
'you are beautiful'
untouched, unwritten
pure, blank, mute....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Morning thoughts
Morning thoughts
~
A sun rises over roof tops
Greeting the cold morning air
A wind blows heavy, swaying trees
The branches stripped bare by winter
The world is slowly waking
And the picture beyond my window
Emerges to life once more
I lay motionless in silence
Nursing warm coffee in my hands
Early thoughts begin to stir
My pen yet to be put to paper
I think back to dreams
The night passed what they brought
I think to the day ahead
What will it bring
Thoughts of love and romance
What could I write of them
I watch a world waking
A sun rising over rooftops
And I listen to my thoughts
poem by Matthew Holloway
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OLd SOul
Wise beyond her years
With eyes that know the world
Mature before she's grown
And pushed out into the world
She's an old soul
With old world knowledge
Profound speech
Without ever attending college
Pushed before she was ready
Yet she didn't let herself fall
Out in the big bad world before she new it all
Beforehand knowledge
That could not be obtained
By regular real world practices
They are not the same
She's an old soul
With old thoughts
and fresh looks
Men stare
She doesn't care
She knows there all crooks
She's seen the ups and downs
Like all through a previous life
She's an old soul
Just living with more than half the strife
poem by Ashley Stone
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Pretty Paper (feat. Willie Nelson)
Kenny Chesney & Willie Nelson
Chorus:
Pretty paper, pretty ribbons of blue
Wrap your presents to your darling from you
Pretty pencils to write I love you
Pretty paper, pretty ribbons of blue.
Crowded street, busy feet, hustle by him
Downtown shoppers, Christmas is nigh
There he sits all alone on the sidewalk
Hoping that you won't pass him by.
Should you stop? Better not, much too busy
You'd better hurry, my how time does fly
And in the distance the ringing of laughter
And in the midst of the laughter he cries.
Pretty paper, pretty ribbons of blue
Wrap your presents to your darling from you
Pretty pencils to write I love you
Pretty paper, pretty ribbons of blue.
Pretty paper, pretty ribbons of blue
Wrap your presents to your darling from you
Pretty pencils to write I love you
Pretty paper, pretty ribbons of blue.
Oooh, pretty paper, pretty ribbons of blue...
song performed by by Kenny Chesney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You have a new comment about your poem...
'What is the purpose of poetry? [Candidates
will be awarded up to 80% of the total marks
for this paper on the answer to
this question. Write on one side of the paper only
but with both frontal lobes;
hearts may be used in answers to this question.]'
After the two hours is up, hand in
a blank sheet; the examiner may sigh and smile.
Some sages say - those not affected
by some academic status to uphold -
(that pause, that look, which indicates,
it's not as simple as all that...) -
that it's the oldest-fashioned thing,
to melt the heart...
but today I'd say, well yes and no -
more like a key you turn and - whoosh! -
there cascades out, all that's in their heart,
all the vast all which they have to give;
and you stand aside, stunned and humble;
such a small key; such a vast world is there.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Blank Mocking Paper
I stare at this paper so white
I just don't know what's so right
I want to write on it
I would love to write a sonnet
I just am alone with the green lines
The red now just starts to shine
Blank as my mind is this sheet
Please can my pen and it just meet
Instead of me sitting here dumbstruck
As if I almost got hit by a truck
Ink blue as the sky not writing
Instead on its end I keep biting
I don't want to right about a caper
So I’ll just stare at this Blank Mocking Paper
poem by Zachary Clark
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Breaking the silence
Shush! Silence
I'm breaking the silence
As I finish this sentence
Six months ago
My heart said yes
My head said no, go slow
In my silence I hid the truth, expressing fear
In my silence I hid my feelings, registering no care
In my silence I hid my thoughts, refusing to share
Any of my ideas
Prosperous is the silence
Abundance of it can turn life
Into a nasty experience
Shush! Silence
I'm breaking the silence
As I finish this sentence
Ceaselessly I've combated with my conscience
Endlessly in silence I exposed my defence
Allowing all to penetrate my territory without a valid licence
I should have said no with my voice
I should have asked why by making some noise
In silence I created an air of suspense
And they capitalised on it in my absence
In silence all my thoughts mingled
Some of which should have been singled
Shush! Silence
I'm breaking the silence
As I finish this sentence
Silence I demand
Give back to me my independence
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Will Silences Not Speak?
WILL SILENCES NOT SPEAK..?
&
will silences not speak? -
if they have spoken..
why then these queries,
'why is he not speaking? '-
when even his own voice
has become alien to himself
seriously doubts he his own utterances-
have we not seen the dust
settling slowly, steadily and uniformly
on glittering surfaces-
likewise silly thoughts on his heart-
in the prolonged hours of wintry nights
are we not familiar with dew pearls
sitting prettily holding hands snugly
on the palms of the leaves?
likewise are not my dumb words?
but when and which sun would translate
my voiceless words into audible realities?
-s.chandra kalaadhar
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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Intro/walk On Water
Here is the water
The one that rushes
From our hearts into the sea
Endlessly hoping to be
Here is the water
The one that rushes from our
Minds into the street
Endlessly hoping to meet
They said we could walk on water
They said we should knock on wood
We did none of these things and they said we could sing
So we sang about falling in love
They said that we were getting smarter
They said that we were something new
We were none of these things and they said we could sing
So we sang about twenty and two
We done all the wrong things
And all we done good
They said we were the new beginning
They said we were a brand new start
We were none of these thing and they said we could sing
So we sang about the state of the art
They said we were the second coming
They said we were a different breed
We were none of these things and they said we could sing
So we sang about the birds and the bees
Bunch of do nothing that were down on your knees
Can you walk on water
But can you walk on - w a t e r (oh no)
Can you walk on - w a t e r
Oh can you walk on water
They said we could walk on water
They said we should knock on wood
We did none of these things and they said we could sing
So we sang about falling in love
They say that we say we say something
They say that we say something new
We say some of these things and they say we can sing
So we sang about a hundred and two
But if nobody listens well nothing comes true
When you walk on water
When you walk on - w a t e r (oh no)
Can you walk on - w a t e r
Oh can you walk on water
Can you walk on - w a t e r (oh no)
Can you walk on - w a t e r
Oh can you walk on water
We never walked on - w a t e r
So tell me something smarter w a t e r
Matadors monkeys, a million balloons
As we walk through the sea to the sand
Knowing full well that were perfectly tuned
As we skip through our hearts hand in hand
Well jenny the older
Whose music we heard
Will we all meet again at the end of the world
No sense in fooling
Were covered in dreams
Having too much fun flying to land
Floating waste high in tendrils of green
Were so small but we feel oh so grand
Well jenny the older
Whose music we heard
Will we all meet again at the end of the world
End of the world
Well jenny the older
Whose music we heard
Will we all meet again at the end of the world
The end of the world
On tuesday
The end of the world
Pop goes the world
The end of the world
Pop goes the world
On tuesday
The end of the world
The real world
Pop goes the world
On tuesday
song performed by by Men Without Hats
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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