Cancelling the meeting
Not out of intent but a drive towards a natural leaning
Tired worn out day beckoned to my inner self to rise
And 'cancel every meeting'
So many weeks beneath a plastered ceiling
Rooms filled with sanitized 'chat'
And endless boardroom meetings
Tired of this thread of wasted days
Of Rotas and Agendas
And 'after dinner smoke and haze'
So much sound and noise
Yet no one really speaking
My inner voice rose up
' At last, I'm cancelling these meetings!
Too much expense of bickering and strife
I must depart this shallow world
And engage with life!
For if that was 'the dream of happiness and success'
Give me the nightmare, I'll live it twice as well
In decadence and 'servile mess'
And just to counter any stress I will anon
My boardroom days are well truly over
capoot........'they're gone! '
yvette smith 12.3.09
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Facebooking
had the chance of meeting Kaye
still at the agriculture department
no promotion yet happy
nothing new really except
this meeting
me too, nothing new, except
this conversation
of who what where when
then we stop
as it is time to go
the office closes at five pm
and we have to find
our way home
it will be dark
and there will be dinner with the family
then we watch tv
after being tired we turn it off
sleep
then dream and then we wake up
early the next morning
back to work
such routine such boredom
yet we still like to live more days
this is life perhaps
nothing new except
the meetings of old friends
then back to work again
i know you are bored reading this
precisely, precisely, now you must feel the same too
at least
in this boring poem
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'm Tired Of It All
I am tired of it all
I am tired of today
I am tired of the summer heat-
I am tired of all the years of trying to be something
And still being nothing and no one
I am tired of myself and my ambition
I am tired of reading the great poems of others
I am tired of Poetry
I am tired of being old
I am tired of no longer having the means to help those I care for-
I am tired of having written for so many years
And having so little to show for it-
I am tired of being an old man getting older -
I am tired of being afraid of what is going to happen to me
And those close to me
I am tired of having so many sick friends-
I am tired of having more and more people I have known who are dead
I am tired of a world in which violence and stupidity play such a great part
I am tired of all the problems that should have been solved years ago
And yet persist-
I am tired of cruelty
I am tired of rudeness and petty selfishness
I am tired of seeing the evil get away with it
I am tired truly tired
Tired of being tired also
Tired of myself and my complaints-
And my failure all these years
To make things right-
And yet and yet with all the tiredness
I know there is so much else even in myself-
I still want to live and dream and hope and help those I love
I still want to write still a few lines of poetry
that will be read by others
And help them
Dream to begin again
I still want to give to those I love
The little I still have to give
I still want to live
For life itself is life itself is still good
Despite the tiredness.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The White Rose
A lonely kid had no friends,
within his home his world ends.
He used to dream about colorful roses,
his love for roses was in heavy doses.
His nights filled with fears and tears,
days rolled like million years.
His mom took him to a rose garden one day,
she wanted to buy him a rose plant for his birthday.
The rose plants giggled about the boys face.
Their words wiped his happiness without a trace.
A dropp of his tear fell on a white rose's petal.
The petal turned red like a rare earth metal.
The plant pleaded him 'please don't cry'.
The words of the rose plant made him fly.
He took that plant to his garden.
From then his life was a gladden.
He took care of the white rose like a baby.
Loving that white rose was his full-time hobby.
His dreams and heart were filled with love.
His heart was pure like the whitest dove.
At an evening the rose looked dull and dry.
The kid was full of cry and wondering why,
he didn't stopped his painful weep,
that whole night he didn't sleep.
His tired eyes slept for a minute in a doze,
a voice in his dream told something about the rose,
the dawn broke with the rose blooming,
but the kid was gone missing.
He was never been found not even a hint.
His heart was beating under the roots of the rose plant.
Because in his dream he heard that,
the rose can live forever with a human heart.
So he left his heart and he depart.
poem by Vimal Kumar N
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Handle With Care (Extended Version) Traveling Wilburys
Been beat up and battered 'round
Been sent up, and I've been shot down
You're the best thing that I've ever found
Handle me with care
Reputations changeable
Situations tolerable
Baby, you're adorable
Handle me with care
I'm so tired of being lonely
I still have some love to give
Won't you show me that you really care
Everybody's got somebody to lean on
Put your body next to mine, and dream on
I've been fobbed off, and I've been fooled
I've been robbed and ridiculed
In day care centers and night schools
Handle me with care
Been stuck in airports, terrorized
Sent to meetings, hypnotized
Overexposed, commercialized
Hand me with care
I'm so tired of being lonely
I still have some love to give
Won't you show me that you really care
Everybody's got somebody to lean on
Put your body next to mine, and dream on
I've been uptight and made a mess
But I'll clean it up myself, I guess
Oh, the sweet smell of success
Handle me with care
song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Handle With Care
Been beat up and battered round
Been sent up, and Ive been shot down
Youre the best thing that Ive ever found
Handle me with care
Reputations changeable
Situations tolerable
Baby, youre adorable
Handle me with care
Im so tired of being lonely
I still have some love to give
Wont you show me that you really care
Everybodys got somebody to lean on
Put your body next to mine, and dream on
Ive been fobbed off, and Ive been fooled
Ive been robbed and ridiculed
In day care centers and night schools
Handle me with care
Been stuck in airports, terrorized
Sent to meetings, hypnotized
Overexposed, commercialized
Hand me with care
Im so tired of being lonely
I still have some love to give
Wont you show me that you really care
Everybodys got somebody to lean on
Put your body next to mine, and dream on
Ive been uptight and made a mess
But Ill clean it up myself, I guess
Oh, the sweet smell of success
Handle me with care
song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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High School Days Of Haze
High school days of haze
Awakened in a twilight zone
Of a mindset of self-doubt
And indulgence.
Where each day fathoms
a pretentious existence
Of what is real doesn't matter
And what matter isn't real
High school days of haze
Strapped in a wrist
Is scared secrecy
Of a friendship bracelet
Plastered in the mimicry
Of Smiley faces
That will cut you,
In words and rumors
High school days of haze
Will birth a bully
Out of tombstone
And give rise to young dolts
Of cowardly endeavors;
that collects a heterogeneous mix
as in a fine filter of friends
From foes
High school days of haze
Where originality is a desire
Sough, but rarely obtained
the indifferent have
Found their difference
In a society of poise
The awkwardly corky
Grim in their authenticity
cultivates success
With hard work and creativity
High school days of haze
Where half dreaming
Become half wakefulness
So better smell the roses
For the throne have spikes
and the dartboard is you.
poem by Gebrela Ganao
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter CXXXII: Tired
I'm tired of being rich
It doesn't give me challenge
I'm tired of keeping famous
It doesn't give me freedom
I'm tired of being powerful
It doesn't give me passion
I'm tired of keeping strong
It doesn't give me happiness
I'm tired of being perfect
It doesn't give me satisfaction
I'm tired of keeping beauty
It doesn't give me security
I'm tired of being lucky
It doesn't give me dream
I'm tired of keeping smile
It doesn't give me honesty
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Feel All Alone
On days like this I am all consumed,
By a heaviness,
Wondering how I got myself
Into this very mess,
This is not the path that,
I was meant to walk upon,
I feel that the steps I take
Barely touch the ground,
My dreams in my younger days,
Have all but disappeared,
The songs I sang in my head,
I can no longer hear,
The life with him had been nothing more,
Than wasted precious time,
I can’t seem to find my way,
I have fallen far behind,
So many things in life,
That I wanted to accomplish,
Being a good mother
Was my solitary wish,
Being in a marriage,
Filled with respect and admiration,
I gave all of myself to him,
Without his adoration,
No one can expect anyone,
To stay in something empty,
Marriage is supposed to be,
The land of good and plenty,
So in order to save my soul,
And live a life of happiness,
I had to walk away from him,
And all his shallow emptiness,
In all this time since I have gone,
To live life on my own,
Inside my heart there’s still a void,
And I feel all alone,
A woman who bears children,
Should never be without,
The love they give because in truth,
It’s what life is all about.
2011
poem by Victoria Gauci
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part III: Gods And False Gods: LXXXII
HE WOULD LEAD A BETTER LIFE
I am tired of folly, tired of my own ways,
Love is a strife. I do not want to strive.
If I had foes I now would make my peace.
If I less wedded were I now would wive.
I would do service to my kind, contrive
Something of good for men, some happiness
For those who in the world still love and live,
And, as my fathers did, so end my days.
I would earn praise, I too, of honest men.
I would repent in sackcloth if needs be.
I would serve God and expiate my sin,
Abjuring love and thee--ay, even thee.
I would do this, dear love. But what am I
To will or do? As we have lived we die.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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A Child's Eyes
To see through child's eyes again
Oh lord now such a dream,
Of scented air with not a care
And tales of all we've seen.
The warmth of days in summers haze
The softest breezes blew
A reverence of innocence
Those days were all too few.
When day was ending we grew tired
Then tucked into our beds
Spawned dreams of scenes, a field of fire
Inside our youthful heads.
But why these thoughts as I now age?
Should haunt me with such pain?
As life and strife is my next page
I wish for youth again.
poem by Dave James
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rest
WE are so tired, my heart and I.
Of all things here beneath the sky
One only thing would please us best--
Endless, unfathomable rest.
We are so tired; we ask no more
Than just to slip out by Life's door;
And leave behind the noisy rout
And everlasting turn about.
Once it seemed well to run on too
With her importunate, fevered crew,
And snatch amid the frantic strife
Some morsel from the board of life.
But we are tired. At Life's crude hands
We ask no gift she understands;
But kneel to him she hates to crave
The absolution of the grave.
poem by Mathilde Blind
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Fatigue
Tired today
Almost a reed broken
Worded out from speech
Finding a peace
In hung silence
And these are all clouds
No dreams tail
There is nothing to reach for
But this, in this moment
Loved out of love
Tired, yes I am tired of 'I love you'
You, who must listen
You, must you love me?
Unseen I walk beside you
Must you understand?
More than a measure of breath
A day spent with empty hands
Must you know me?
How can you know?
All that is missing in the spaces
Between today and tomorrow, ?
And another year passes unseen,
And the universal parent is waiting,
Yes he is always waiting
To take us home
To take us back
To a time when we were living without want,
Only knowing we were loved,
And that is all,
And that is that!
yvette smith 26.1.09
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'm So Tired
i'm so tired (lennon/mccartney)
I'm so tired, i haven't slept a wink
I'm so tired, my mind is on the blink
I wonder should i get up and fix myself a drink
No,no,no.
I'm so tired i don't know what to do
I'm so tired my mind is set on you
I wonder should i call you but i know what you'd do
You'd say i'm putting you on
But it's no joke, it's doing me harm
You know i can't sleep, i can't stop my brain
You know it's three weeks, i'm going insane
You know i'd give you everything i've got
For a little peace of mind
I'm so tired, i'm feeling so upset
Although i'm so tired i'll have another cigarette
And curse sir walter raleigh
He was such a stupid git.
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gift
Love given
Ridden
Lived in
Loved in
Lost in
Love fallen
Broken
Stalling
Spoken
Woken in smoke filled rooms
Full of old whispers calling to
Love taken
Mistaken
Forsaken
Love wounded
Love preacher
Love teacher
Love prayer
Love giver
Lover taker
Love sinner
Love maker
Love over
Too soon
like a gift forgotten
Your face in the mirror
Much older
yvette m smith sept 09
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Guns Against Knives
I’m tired of people getting sick
As soon as they’re born
Of soldiers killing
Innocent kids
And my heart is too torn
I’m tired of marching
In a stupid parade
Begging strangers for sympathy
Expecting a raid
I’m tired of meetings
At which gray heads agree
On Vancouver or France
If the time comes to flee
I’m tired of signing
The fucking petitions
Begging for justice
For relief of conditions
But who are the ones
That spread shit in our lives?
Can they be stopped?
It’s guns against knives.
The Passing of Scotty
WE THROW us down on the dusty plain
When the gold has gone from the west,
But we rise and tramp on the track again,
For we’re tired—too tired to rest.
Darker and denser the shadows fall
That are cramping each aching brow—
Scotty the Wrinkler! you’ve solved it all,
Give us a wrinkle now.
But no one lieth so still in death
As the rover who never could rest;
And he’s free of thought as he’s free of breath—
And his hands are crossed on his breast.
You have earned your rest—you brave old tramp—
As I hope in the end we will.
Ah me! ’Twas a long, long way to camp
Since the days when they called you “Phil’.
What have they done with your quaint old soul
Now they have passed you through?
But we can’t but think, as our swags we roll,
That it’s right, old man, with you;
You learned some truth in the storm and strife
Of the outcast battler’s ways;
And you left some light in the vagabond’s life
Ere you vanished beyond the haze.
One by one in the far ahead,
In the smothering haze of drought—
Where hearts are loyal and hopes are dead—
The forms of our mates fade out.
’Tis a distant goal and a weary load,
But we follow the Wrinkler home,
As, staggering into the short, straight road,
From the blind branch tracks we come.
We leave our mark and we play our part
In the nation’s pregnant days,
And we find a place in the Bushman’s heart
Ere we vanish beyond the haze.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Sick and Tired
Sick of you.
Sick of me.
Sick of this eternity.
Sick of asking what is wrong.
Sick of trying to get along.
Tired of smiling.
Tired of love.
Tired of pretending your from above.
Tired of chasing you around.
Tired of never making a sound.
I'm sick and tired,
and all worn out.
Please just hear me scream and shout;
'I'm done with you! '
This is the end
At least that's what I'm going to pretend.
poem by Brittany Graviet
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Days Go On and On
I play. I sing and write a rhyme.
These 3 things consume my time.
and my days go on and on.
I think. I dream and wake up tired.
These 3 things have got me wired
and my days go on and on.
I eat. I drink and watch my weight.
These 3 things can just frustrate
and my days go on and on.
I worry. I stew and then obsess.
These 3 things create a mess
and my days go on and on.
I weep. I laugh and then I swear.
These 3 things make me aware
that my days go on and on.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Get Off My Cloud
originally by Rolling Stones
I live in an apartment on the ninety ninth foor of my block
And I sit at home lookin' out the window imaginin' the world has stopped
Then in flies a guy that's all dressed up like a Union Jack
He says I've won five pounds if I have this kind ogf detergent pack
I said, hey you get off my cloud, hey you get off my cloud
Hey you get off my cloud, don't hang around
'Cause two's a crowd on my cloud baby
The telephone is ringin', I say hi it's me, who's there on the line
A voice says hi hullo how are you, well I guess I'm doing fine
He says it's three a.m. and there's too much noise, don't you people ever want
To go bed, just 'cause you feel so good, so you have to drive me out of my head
I was sick and tired, fed up with this and decided to take a drive downtown
It was so very quiet and peaceful, there was nobody, not a soul around
I laid myself out, I was so tired and I started to dream
In the mornin' the parkin' tickets were just like flags stuck on my wind screen
song performed by by Sheryl Crow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Heart and I
I.
ENOUGH ! we're tired, my heart and I.
We sit beside the headstone thus,
And wish that name were carved for us.
The moss reprints more tenderly
The hard types of the mason's knife,
As heaven's sweet life renews earth's life
With which we're tired, my heart and I.
II.
You see we're tired, my heart and I.
We dealt with books, we trusted men,
And in our own blood drenched the pen,
As if such colours could not fly.
We walked too straight for fortune's end,
We loved too true to keep a friend ;
At last we're tired, my heart and I.
III.
How tired we feel, my heart and I !
We seem of no use in the world ;
Our fancies hang grey and uncurled
About men's eyes indifferently ;
Our voice which thrilled you so, will let
You sleep; our tears are only wet :
What do we here, my heart and I ?
IV.
So tired, so tired, my heart and I !
It was not thus in that old time
When Ralph sat with me 'neath the lime
To watch the sunset from the sky.
`Dear love, you're looking tired,' he said;
I, smiling at him, shook my head :
'Tis now we're tired, my heart and I.
V.
So tired, so tired, my heart and I !
Though now none takes me on his arm
To fold me close and kiss me warm
Till each quick breath end in a sigh
Of happy languor. Now, alone,
We lean upon this graveyard stone,
Uncheered, unkissed, my heart and I.
VI.
Tired out we are, my heart and I.
Suppose the world brought diadems
To tempt us, crusted with loose gems
Of powers and pleasures ? Let it try.
We scarcely care to look at even
A pretty child, or God's blue heaven,
We feel so tired, my heart and I.
VII.
Yet who complains ? My heart and I ?
In this abundant earth no doubt
Is little room for things worn out :
Disdain them, break them, throw them by
And if before the days grew rough
We once were loved, used, -- well enough,
I think, we've fared, my heart and I.
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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