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Strange Meeting

It seemed that out of the battle I escaped
Down some profound dull tunnel, long since scooped
Through granites which Titanic wars had groined.
Yet also there encumbered sleepers groaned,
Too fast in thought or death to be bestirred.
Then, as I probed them, one sprang up, and stared
With piteous recognition in fixed eyes,
Lifting distressful hands as if to bless.
And by his smile, I knew that sullen hall;
By his dead smile I knew we stood in Hell.
With a thousand fears that vision's face was grained;
Yet no blood reached there from the upper ground,
And no guns thumped, or down the flues made moan.
'Strange, friend,' I said, 'Here is no cause to mourn.'
'None,' said the other, 'Save the undone years,
The hopelessness. Whatever hope is yours,
Was my life also; I went hunting wild
After the wildest beauty in the world,
Which lies not calm in eyes, or braided hair,
But mocks the steady running of the hour,
And if it grieves, grieves richlier than here.
For by my glee might many men have laughed,
And of my weeping something has been left,
Which must die now. I mean the truth untold,
The pity of war, the pity war distilled.
Now men will go content with what we spoiled.
Or, discontent, boil bloody, and be spilled.
They will be swift with swiftness of the tigress,
None will break ranks, though nations trek from progress.
Courage was mine, and I had mystery;
Wisdom was mine, and I had mastery;
To miss the march of this retreating world
Into vain citadels that are not walled.
Then, when much blood had clogged their chariot-wheels
I would go up and wash them from sweet wells,
Even with truths that lie too deep for taint.
I would have poured my spirit without stint
But not through wounds; not on the cess of war.
Foreheads of men have bled where no wounds were.
I am the enemy you killed, my friend.
I knew you in this dark; for so you frowned
Yesterday through me as you jabbed and killed.
I parried; but my hands were loath and cold.
Let us sleep now ...

poem by Wilfred Owen
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Related quotes

Luv Eyes

This friend of mine, he looks real good
He drives a fast car and lives in Hollywood
He treats me like his little sis'
I gotta let him know I want more than this
His girlfriend Jane is a prissy brat
I dont know what he sees in that
He thinks she's cool in her short tight dress
You take away the glamour and she's just a mess
Luv eyes
Speak to me as more than just a friendv Luv eyes
Will this dream ever end
I got L-U-V eyes looking at you
I got a B-I-G heart made for two
You could feel the same if you only knew
I got L-U-V eyes looking at you
Gonna close my eyes and take a deep breath
I wanna be strong but I'm scared to death
Gonna put your arms around my waist
And tell you that I love you right to your face
Luv eyes
Speak to me as more than just a friend
Luv eyes
Will this dream ever end
I got L-U-V eyes looking at you
I got a B-I-G heart made for two
You could feel the same if you only knew
I got L-U-V eyes looking at you
This friend of mine, he looks real good
Guess who made it to Hollywood
No more Jane I got her beat
Now I'm sitting pretty in the front seat
Luv eyes
Look at me and let the feeling out
Heaven
The two of us in love
I got L-U-V eyes looking at you
I got a B-I-G heart made for two
You could feel the same if you only knew
I got L-U-V eyes
I got L-U-V eyes looking at you
I got a B-I-G heart made for two
You could feel the same if you only knew
I got L-U-V eyes
I got L-U-V eyes

song performed by by Shania Twain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet XXXVII

I will release my soul of argument.
He that would love must follow with shut eyes.
My reason of the years was discontent,
My treasure for all hope a vain surmise.
I will have done with wisdom's sophistries,
Her insolence of wit. What man shall say
He comfort takes in the short hour that dies,
Because he knew it mortal yesterday?
The tree of knowledge bears a bitter fruit.
This is that other tree, whose branches hold
Fair store of faith, peace, pity absolute,
And deeds of virtue for a world grown cold.
If by its fruits the tree of life be known,
Here is a truth undreamed of Solomon.

poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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song performed by by Led Zeppelin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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(V – 1990) War & Peace

War has stabbed the heart of peace
And peace lies bleeding now –
A peace which was healing slow
The wounds it had suffered hard,
A peace which was recovering
From the mind blowing blows
Of the decades past!

Now the precious blood of that peace is draining
And each dropp of dripping blood
Is singing the songs of savagery
To the frightened ears of civilizations!
Man mastered bombs but now bombs master man!
Man busy growing the world outside
How poor he forgot to grow his inside!
And now when he stands a helpless child
Before the giant of things he grew
Reason comes again and asks
Was this the progress you built through the years
And man has no answer
He just drops into wounds
Wounds inflicted by bullets of arrogance
Of selfishness, hatred, fear and greed!
Oh, these bombs that preach ‘might is right’
Oh, these merciless bloodthirsty bullets –
What answers are they? What justice makes they?
What battle is real than a battle for peace?
What victory, true, when won at the cost of peace? !

Peace was long destroyed on the minds of men
So no peace now remains outside!
Rising from narrow rooms of thought
Man armed with the mortal arms of passion
Smashes the skulls of his brethren
And when upon the fractured bones
And the boiled flesh, cries of anguish fall
And when the hands and limbs of innocents
Lie eaten and bitten by vultures of violence
Their hearts cracking into a fury of pain
And when thick clouds of smoke
Of the smoke of life, rises from the graveyards of war
A tear comes into the eyes of man and time asks:
Hasn’t History taught you anything still?
And man stands dumb!

With all his will and wisdom paralyzed
He searches for peace, for the solace of peace
But peace lies writhing there!
He knows he wants it dearly
The company of peace,
Wounded though he be!
But peace is dying there;
But peace is not dead!
His life lies in our hands
The wounds are many
But many more can be spared!
The wounds are sore
But they can be medicined still!
War is death
But war can be killed!

poem by Kannan G
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Woman and the Wife

I--THE EXPLANATION

"You thought we knew," she said, "but we were wrong.
This we can say, the rest we do not say;
Nor do I let you throw yourself away
Because you love me. Let us both be strong,
And we shall find in sorrow, before long,
Only the price Love ruled that we should pay:
The dark is the end of every day,
And silence is the end of every song.

"You ask me for one more proof that I speak right,
But I can answer only what I know;
You look for just one lie to make black white,
But I can tell you only what is true--
God never made me for the wife of you.
This we can say,--believe me! . . . Tell me so!"

II--THE ANNIVERSARY

"Give me the truth, whatever it may be.
You thought we knew, but now tell me what you miss:
You are the one to tell me what it is--
You are a man, and you have married me.
What is it worth to-night that you can see
More marriage in the dream of one dead kiss
Than in a thousand years of life like this?
Passion has turned the lock. Pride keeps the key.

"Whatever I have said or left unsaid,
Whatever I have done or left undone,--
Tell me. Tell me the truth . . . Are you afraid?
Do you think that Love was ever fed with lies
But hunger lived thereafter in his eyes?
Do you ask me to take moonlight for the sun?"

poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Angel

My friend is dead.
They put her in the cold ground
by a lake.
They say she's gone with Jesus.
She always did have the eyes of an angel.
I still feel those eyes.
Those brown eyes.
Brown as the earth they put her in.
Deep as the lake that laps against her slumber.
No secrets.
Except those of mine she knew.
And she knew them all.
Baby girl, you knew them all.
Do you still?

poem by Meli Secret
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Emo Genocide

We lie motionless on the cold wet ground
Hands bound behind our back blindfolds over our eyes
Left to rot out bodies never to be found
Just because we where the ones to question your lies

Our hair covers our now blood stained blindfolds
Clean crisp bullet holes mark each of our foreheads
Murdered because of our choice not to follow the rules of old
Now thousands of us are hiding or are already dead

We've been targeted like Jehovah's Witnesses during the holocaust
I watched so many old friends led to there impending death
Every single one of us refuse to change even if our lives are lost
Even if tomorrow we may breath out last breath

Even if all of us are killed we'll never truly die
Because there will still be girls and boys just like us
Who will one day challenge you and expose all of your lies
And those select few will fight to the death

You'll never be able to truly stamp us out
The thought's we've instilled will never die
It's a losing battle and you'll lose without a doubt
People will all know of your disgusting lie

poem by Patrick Shields
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Crown Of Thorns 300th

the crown of thorns pierced his skin.
he bled outside and within.

he knew that this was meant to be
so that all mankind could be set free.

although his heart and body
was full of pain
he knew the world
would never be the same.

as they laid him upon the cross
and tied his hands and feet.
he knew that soon
his father he would meet.

he felt the spikes pierce his hands
and his blood fall to the ground.
he had wanted to scream
but did not make a sound.

they then took his feet
and did the same.
but he refused to give in
and took all the pain.

the pain is for the world
that was coming to an end
and he also knew
that he was given up by a friend

and as they picked up the cross
and placed it in the ground.

he heard the screams of the others
asking to go with him
and to ask GOD above to
wipe away their sins.

the crown of thorns that
they placed upon your head.

is for all the pains
that this world will soon dread.

poem by Louis Rams
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Mater Dolorosa

Who is this that sits by the way, by the wild wayside,
In a rent stained raiment, the robe of a cast-off bride,
In the dust, in the rainfall sitting, with soiled feet bare,
With the night for a garment upon her, with torn wet hair?
She is fairer of face than the daughters of men, and her eyes,
Worn through with her tears, are deep as the depth of skies.

This is she for whose sake being fallen, for whose abject sake,
Earth groans in the blackness of darkness, and men's hearts break.
This is she for whose love, having seen her, the men that were
Poured life out as water, and shed their souls upon air.
This is she for whose glory their years were counted as foam;
Whose face was a light upon Greece, was a fire upon Rome.

Is it now not surely a vain thing, a foolish and vain,
To sit down by her, mourn to her, serve her, partake in the pain?
She is grey with the dust of time on his manifold ways,
Where her faint feet stumble and falter through year-long days.
Shall she help us at all, O fools, give fruit or give fame,
Who herself is a name despised, a rejected name?

We have not served her for guerdon. If any do so,
That his mouth may be sweet with such honey, we care not to know.
We have drunk from a wine-unsweetened, a perilous cup,
A draught very bitter. The kings of the earth stood up,
And the rulers took counsel together, to smite her and slay;
And the blood of her wounds is given us to drink today.

Can these bones live? or the leaves that are dead leaves bud?
Or the dead blood drawn from her veins be in your veins blood?
Will ye gather up water again that was drawn and shed?
In the blood is the life of the veins, and her veins are dead.
For the lives that are over are over, and past things past;
She had her day, and it is not; was first, and is last.

Is it nothing unto you then, all ye that pass by,
If her breath be left in her lips, if she live now or die?
Behold now, O people, and say if she be not fair,
Whom your fathers followed to find her, with praise and prayer,
And rejoiced, having found her, though roof they had none nor bread;
But ye care not; what is it to you if her day be dead?

It was well with our fathers; their sound was in all men's lands;
There was fire in their hearts, and the hunger of fight in their
hands.
Naked and strong they went forth in her strength like flame,
For her love's and her name's sake of old, her republican name.
But their children, by kings made quiet, by priests made wise,
Love better the heat of their hearths than the light of her eyes.

Are they children of these thy children indeed, who have sold,
O golden goddess, the light of thy face for gold?
Are they sons indeed of the sons of thy dayspring of hope,
Whose lives are in fief of an emperor, whose souls of a Pope?
Hide then thine head, O beloved; thy time is done;
Thy kingdom is broken in heaven, and blind thy sun.

What sleep is upon you, to dream she indeed shall rise,
When the hopes are dead in her heart as the tears in her eyes?
If ye sing of her dead, will she stir? if ye weep for her, weep?
Come away now, leave her; what hath she to do but sleep?
But ye that mourn are alive, and have years to be;
And life is good, and the world is wiser than we.

Yea, wise is the world and mighty, with years to give,
And years to promise; but how long now shall it live?
And foolish and poor is faith, and her ways are bare,
Till she find the way of the sun, and the morning air.
In that hour shall this dead face shine as the face of the sun,
And the soul of man and her soul and the world's be one.

poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Timmy The Seal

Timmy the Seal was a friend of mine
I'm sorry for I heard He died,
Up in Alaska He was clubbed to death,
So I think, I will sit and cry.
For I remember still when He was a Cub
And the way He use to talk
And the way He smiled through His saddened eyes,
And; His funny walk.
I remember His Mother a good old Girl
And how much She loved Her son
And how She protected Timmy when the Hunters came,
So they killed Her; and Timmy cried so loud.
So into the ocean Timmy ran and jumped,
And swam as fast as He could swim
Though He escaped from the screams and the cries,
But He couldn't escape from where He had been.
For He remembered the cries and the bloody sight
And His friends who were clubbed to death,
And the Hunters who crept through the night,
While carrying those clubs of red.

Timmy the Seal swam back to His home
Just to see if anyone was left,
But all He could find was blood on the snow,
And a Walrus, whose name was Fred;
The Walrus was an ancient one
Whom lived through many of deaths,
And He told Timmy how His family had died,
In one of those bloody nights.
The Hunters all arrived with their clubs
And killed everything that moved
And so went my family, in just one night,
And I knew not what to do.
The Walrus cried and Timmy sighed
Finally knowing how to stop these killings,
Timmy looked at Fred and said unafraid,
I'll show the Hunters we too have feelings, .
So in toward the ocean Timmy jumped and swam,
Leaving the Walrus all alone,
Vowing He'd find the Hunters and stop these killings,
And when He did, He would come back home.
But Timmy never came back home again
I heard this from some friends,
They said Timmy showed the Hunters His sad brown eyes,
So they laughed, and they killed Timmy for His hide.

Timmy the Seal was a Friend of mine
So another tear for me to cry,
For I remember the day Timmy swam away,
For the Walrus, was I.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Woman and the Wife

I--THE EXPLANATION

II--THE ANNIVERSARY

poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song of the Dardanelles

The Wireless tells and the cable tells
How our boys behaved by the Dardanelles.
Some thought in their hearts “Will our boys make good?”
We knew them of old and we knew they would!
Knew they would—
Knew they would;
We were mates of old and we knew they would.
They laughed and they larked and they loved likewise,
For blood is warm under Southern skies;
They knew not Pharoah (’tis understood),
And they got into scrapes, as we knew they would.
Knew they would—
Knew they would;
And they got into scrapes, as we knew they would.

They chafed in the dust of an old dead land
At the long months’ drill in the scorching sand;
But they knew in their hearts it was for their good,
And they saw it through as we knew they would.
Knew they would—
Knew they would;
And they saw it through as we knew they would.

The Coo-ee called through the Mena Camp,
And an army roared like the Ocean’s tramp
On a gale-swept beach in her wildest mood,
Till the Pyramids shook as we knew they would.
Knew they would—
Knew they would.
(And the Sphinx woke up as we knew she would.)

They were shipped like sheep when the dawn was grey;
(But their officers knew that no lambs were they).
They squatted and perched where’er they could,
And they “blanky-ed” for joy as we knew they would.
Knew they would—
Knew they would;
They “blanky-ed” for joy as we knew they would.

The sea was hell and the shore was hell,
With mine, entanglement, shrapnel and shell,
But they stormed the heights as Australians should,
And they fought and they died as we knew they would.
Knew they would—
Knew they would;
They fought and they died as we knew they would.

From the southern hills and the city lanes,
From the sandwaste lone and the Blacksoil Plains;
The youngest and strongest of England’s brood!—
They’ll win for the South as we knew they would.
Knew they would—
Knew they would;
They’ll win for the South as we knew they would.

poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Bloody Valentine

Oh, my love
Please don't cry
I'll wash my bloody hands and
We'll start a new life
I ripped out
His throat
And called you on the telephone
To take off
My disguise
Just in time to hear you cry when you...
You mourn the death of your bloody valentine
The night he died
You mourn the death of your bloody valentine
One last time
Singin'...
Oh, my love
Please don't cry
I'll wash my bloody hands and
We'll start a new life
I don't know much at all
I don't know wrong from right
All I know is that I love you tonight
There was
Police and
Flashing lights
The rain came down so hard that night and the
Headlines read
A lover died
No tell-tale heart was left to find when you...
You mourn the death of your bloody valentine
The night he died
You mourn the death of your bloody valentine
One last time
Singin'...
Oh, my love
Please don't cry
I'll wash my bloody hands and
We'll start a new life
I don't know much at all
I don't know wrong from right
All I know is that I love you tonight
Tonight
He dropped you off, I followed him home
Then I, I stood outside his bedroom window
Standing over him, he begged me not to do
What I knew I had to do cause I'm so in love with you
Oh, my love
Please don't cry
I'll wash my bloody hands and
We'll start a new life
I don't know much at all
I don't know wrong from right
All I know is that I love you tonight
Tonight

song performed by by Good Charlotte
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Choriambics

Love, what ailed thee to leave life that was made lovely, we thought, with love?
What sweet visions of sleep lured thee away, down from the light above?

What strange faces of dreams, voices that called, hands that were raised to wave,
Lured or led thee, alas, out of the sun, down to the sunless grave?

Ah, thy luminous eyes! once was their light fed with the fire of day;
Now their shadowy lids cover them close, hush them and hide away.

Ah, thy snow-coloured hands! once were they chains, mighty to bind me fast;
Now no blood in them burns, mindless of love, senseless of passion past.

Ah, thy beautiful hair! so was it once braided for me, for me;
Now for death is it crowned, only for death, lover and lord of thee.

Sweet, the kisses of death set on thy lips, colder are they than mine;
Colder surely than past kisses that love poured for thy lips as wine.

Lov'st thou death? is his face fairer than love's, brighter to look upon?
Seest thou light in his eyes, light by which love's pales and is overshone?

Lo the roses of death, grey as the dust, chiller of leaf than snow!
Why let fall from thy hand love's that were thine, roses that loved thee so?

Large red lilies of love, sceptral and tall, lovely for eyes to see;
Thornless blossom of love, full of the sun, fruits that were reared for thee.

Now death's poppies alone circle thy hair, girdle thy breasts as white;
Bloodless blossoms of death, leaves that have sprung never against the light.

Nay then, sleep if thou wilt; love is content; what should he do to weep?
Sweet was love to thee once; now in thine eyes sweeter than love is sleep.

poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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That Was Yesterday (extended Version)

I
thought I knew you well
But all this time
I could never tell
I
Let you get away
Haunts me every night and every day
You
Were the only one
The only friend that I counted on
How
Could I watch you walk away?
I'd give anything to have you here today
But now
I stand alone with my pride
And dream
That you're still by my side
But that was yesterday
I had the world in my hands
But it's not the end of my world
It's just a slight change of plans
That was yesterday
But today life goes on
No more hiding in yesterday
'Cause yesterday's gone
Ooh..................
Love
My love I gave it all
Thought I saw the light
When I heard you call
Life
That we both could share
Has deserted me
Left me in despair
But now
I stand alone with my pride
Fighting back the tears
I never let myself cry
But that was yesterday
Love was took from my hands
But it's not the end of my world
It's just a little hard to understand
That was yesterday
But today life goes on
You won't find me in yesterday's world
Now yesterday's gone
Goodbye yesterday
Now it's over and done
Still I hope somewhere deep in your heart
Yesterday will live on
Ooh......

song performed by by Foreigner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The New Aspasia

If I have given myself to you, and you,
And if these pale hands are not virginal,
Nor these bright lips beneath your own lips true,
What matters it? I do not stand nor fall
By your old foolish judgments of desire:
If this were Helen's way it is not mine;
I bring you Beauty, but no Troys to fire:
The cup I hold brims not with Borgia's wine.
You, so sudden snared of brows and breasts,
Lightly you think upon these lips, this hair.
My thoughts are kinder: you are pity's guests:
Compassion's bed you share.

It was not lust delivered me to you;
I gave my wondering mouth for pity's sake,
For your strange, sighing lips I did but break
Many times this bread, and poured this wine anew.
My body's woven sweetness and kindling hair
Were given for heal of hurts unknown of me,
For something I could slake but could not share.
Sudden, and rough, and cruel I let you be,
I gave my body for what the world calls sin,
Even as for your souls the Nazarene
Gave once. Long years in pity I and He
Have served you-Jesus and the Magdalen.

As on the river in the fading light
A rust-red sail across the evening creeps,
Torching the gloom, and slowly sinks from sight,
The blood may rise to some old face at night,
Remembering old sins before it sleeps.
So might you hence recall me, were I true
To your sad violence. Were I not free
So me you might remember now; but you
Were no more loved by me than
Than clouds at sunset, or the wild bird going
About his pleasure on the apple tree,
Or wide-blown roses swelling to the bee;
No sweeter than flowers suddenly found growing
In frost-bound dells, or, on the bare, high hills,
The gold, unlaced, dew-drunken daffodils
Shouting the dawn, or the brown river flowing
Down quietly to the sea;
Or day in twilight's hair bound safe and dim,
Stirless in lavender, or the wind blowing,
Tumbling the poppy's turban after him.

I knew you as I knew these happy things,
Passing, unwept, on wide and tranquil wings
To their own place in nature; below, above
Transient passion with its stains and stings.
For this strange pity that you knew not of
Was neither lust nor love.

Do not repent, nor pity, nor regret.
I do not seek your pardon, nor give you mine.
Pass by, be silent, drop no tears, forget.
Return not, make no sign
When I am dead, nor turn your lips away
From Phyrne's silver limbs and Faustine's kiss.
I need no pity. No word of pity say.
I have given a new sweet name and crown to this
That served men's lust and was Aspasia.

poem by Muriel Stuart
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Secret Foe

When now to battle he shall ride,
The bravest of the brave,
Joan the Maid be by his side
And Michael, quick to save.

Not against man's most fell device
The shell, the gas, the mine;
These he shall meet with steady eyes
And courage half-divine.

Oh, not the gaping wounds and red
And not the tortured sense,
And not the dying and the dead
And his own impotence.

But when the joy of battle faints
And his hot blood grows chill,
Be near him, all ye soldier saints,
Lest Satan work him ill!

Lest in the hour of his great fight
This foe should him assail,
The enemy that creeps by night
Strike through his coat of mail.

Sebastian of the arrows, haste,
Michael and the White Maid,
Lest in his splendid hour, at last,
The soldier be afraid.

poem by Katharine Tynan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Father

The evening found us whom the day had fled,
Once more in bitter anger, you and I,
Over some small, some foolish, trivial thing
Our anger would not decently let die,
But dragged between us, shamed and shivering
Until each other's taunts we scarcely heard,
Until we lost the sense of all we said,
And knew not who first spoke the fatal word.
It seemed that even every kiss we wrung
We killed at birth with shuddering and hate,
As if we feared a thing too passionate.
However close we clung
One hour the next hour found us separate,
Estranged, and Love most bitter on our tongue.

To-night we quarrelled over one small head,
Our fruit of last year's maying, the white bud
Blown from our stormy kisses and the dead
First rapture of our wild, estranging blood.
You clutched him: there was panther in your eyes,
We breathed like beasts in thickets, on the wall
Our shadows in huge challenge seemed to rise,
The room grew dark with anger. Yet through all
The shame and hurt and pity of it you were
Still strangely and imperishably dear,
As one who loves the wild day none the less
That breaks in bitter hands the buds of Spring,
Whose cold hand stops the breath of loveliness,
And drives the wailing ghost of beauty past,
Making the rose, — even the rose, a thing
For pain to be remembered by at last.

I said: 'My son shall wear his father's sword.'
You said: 'Shall hands once blossoms at my breast
Be stained with blood?' I answered with a word
More bitter, and your own, the bitterest
Stung me to sullen anger, and I said:
'My son shall be no coward of his line
Because his mother choose'; you turned your head
And your eyes grew implacable in mine.
And like a trodden snake you turned to meet
The foe with sudden hissing… then you smiled,
And broke our life in pieces at my feet,
'Your child?' you said: 'Your child?'

poem by Muriel Stuart
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Teen Dream Come True

it was a summer nights dream, not a cloud to be seen
the sky a beautiful orange red
i saw you and i thought that i was dead.

then a vision came into my eyes
the vision was of you and i.
and the tears came down like the rain from the sky
not even thinking or knowing why.
i was attracted to you like bees to honey
it seemed strange- it seemed funny.

then i recalled the first time that i saw you:
i was walking to school with my friends that day
you was with your friends walking the opposite way.
our eyes met and neither one of us
could pull our gaze away.
i wanted to chase and talk to you
but i did'nt know what to say.

it's five years later and we are young adults now
and i still could'nt make a sound.
so you walked over to me with a smile so wide
that i became hypnotized.

hi! my name is venus, and i remember you from school.
you walked by and i played the fool.
i could'nt speak, i stood transfixed at the way our eyes met
and it still haunts me yet.
there was so many things that i wanted to say
but you continued to walk away.
now i'm older and no longer shy.
would you like to sit with me and have a glass of wine?

still speechless- i shook my head.
then the words rose to my throat.
'i always thought of you' i started to boast.
you captured my heart on that very first day
and there was so many things that i wanted to say.

your eyes had pulled me in like
a whirlpool in the ocean, and set all my feelings in motion.
i thought of you night and day
but did'nt know from where you came.
i searched every hallway and each classroom
but you was gone much too soon.

she said: i was tranferred from school that very day
but to the LORD i did pray.
that i would see you again, and that we'd be more than friends.
if we could just sit and talk, and learn about each other
for in my heart there was no other.

we reached across the table and our hands touched
for the first time, and our bodies started to
shake and quiver, and chills running up and
down our spines.
she knew i was hers, and she was mine.

embarassed, because we thought that people had saw
the way that we reacted.
we grabbed hands and ran out the door.
to once again face the beautiful orange red sky
and knew this was a love sublime.

poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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New Year 2001...Ironic!

Two thousand years ago a child was born
Now two thousand years from then, centuries have been torn
By wars and hate and lusts of men refusing to be filled

Now two thousand years have been beaten and been killed
This new millennia can heal wounds of the past
Only if man looks back and stands aghast

At blood that has flowed from his fellow man
At sick and poor and the sorrow they withstand
Only then can the spirit of a child born long ago
Save the world from hate and help us to know

That through love there is a future free and clear
Let us not repeat the past in this bright new year!

poem by Gregory Huyette
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Strange Meeting

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Strange Meeting

Related quotes

Luv Eyes

A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet XXXVII

Friends

(V – 1990) War & Peace

The Woman and the Wife

Angel

Emo Genocide

Crown Of Thorns 300th

Mater Dolorosa

Timmy The Seal

The Woman and the Wife

Song of the Dardanelles

My Bloody Valentine

Choriambics

That Was Yesterday (extended Version)

The New Aspasia

The Secret Foe

The Father

Teen Dream Come True

New Year 2001...Ironic!

En.Citatepedia^®.ro