En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Olive At Midnight

An olive at midnight

Green

shiny

globe

of
black

The size of a dirty workman's thumb

They (the olives) tumble towards me

Down hills and in still slick lakes of olive oil

I meet my dark shining olive

By suprise

It's midnight in the olive grove

My ciabatta catches him

spinning on the tastebuds together

My olive and I

Two star crossed lovers

One black

On green

Obscene nights of perpetual fulfillment

What a scene! my olive and me

My olive my heart

Oh my darling lovely one

Olive at midnight

At last

you have come to me

And together we will may a delightful

pair

my lips quake at the thought of you

quivering as you slither in a plate of oil

towards them

Olive at midnight

You have possessed me

I am yours

But too many press in

Only one is chosen

It is dark I cannot see you

Oh olive

Are you green?

Or black?

Does it matter I am not prejudice

My dear dear one

At midnight you thunder towards me

My heart is an earthquake

My brain a melting pot offondant cheese

I slice my ciabatta

A tiny onion a tomato pressed between

And you oh olive my love

I am done

Please leave

I am not hungry

It is past midnight

I must sleep

poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Highly-Colored Romance

Ben Green was a New-Hampshire boy,
Who stood full six feet two:
A jovial chap this same Ben Green,
Though he had oft been blue.
He loved a girl named Olive Brown,
Who lived near Bixby's pond,
And who, despite her brunette name,
Was a decided blonde.
"A Highly Colored Romance."
A pink of rare perfection she,
The belle of all the town;
Though Ben oft wished her Olive Green,
Instead of Olive Brown.
And she loved Ben, and said that nought
Should mar their joy serene;
And, when she changed from Olive Brown,
'Twould surely be to Green.
She kept her word in-violet,
And vowed, ere she was wed,
Although when Brown she had Be(e)n Green.
When Green she'd be well read.
But, ah! her young affections changed
To Gray, a Southern fellow;
And Green turned white the news to hear,
Though first it made him yell, oh!
Says he, " How can you lilac this,
When you vowed to be true?
I'll take your fine young lover, Gray,
And beat him till he's blue."
Then Olive Brown to crimson turned,
And said, "Do as you say:
The country long has wished to see
'The Blue combined with Gray.'"
Ben Green to purple turned with rage,
And black his brow as night;
While on the cheek of Olive Brown
The crimson changed to white.
"O cruel Olive Brown!" says Ben,
"I've been dun-brown by you:
Let this 'Grayback' his steps retrace,
And take Greenback, — oh, do!"
Poor Olive Brown, what could she say,
To sea-Green look so sad ?
And so she rose, and said to him,
"I'll go and ask my dad."
. . . .
The years rolled by: Ben's raven locks
For silver did not lack;
And Olive, with her hair of gold,
Was glad she took Greenback.

poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Olive Of Peace

Now sheath'd is the Sword that was wild as the blast:
The Tempest of Slaughter and Terror is past;
Old ALBION her Neighbour all smilingly hails—
For the OLIVE of PEACE blooms again in our Vales!
Beam on the day,
Thou Olive gay:
'Matchless is he
Who planted thee;
And mayst thou like him immortal be!'

Divinest of Olives, O, never was seen
A bloom so enchanting, a verdure so green!
Sweet, sweet do thy Beauties entwiningly smile
In the Vine-tree of France and the Oak of our Isle!
Beam on the day,
Thou Olive gay, &c.

Long, long did thy envied Exotic delay,
'Till the voice of HUMANITY charm'd thee away;
And here, ever here mayst thou bloom in repose,
As firm as our Oak-tree, and gay as the Rose!
Bloom on the day,
Thou Olive gay, &c.

Let ALCIDES his Poplar of Majesty prize,
And VENUS her Myrtle exalt to the skies:
FRANCE and ALBION excell all the Gods of old Greece—
For they crown their wise heads with the OLIVE of PEACE!
Bloom on the day,
Thou Olive gay, &c.

The delicate Lily may gracefully mount,
And the Pink all her charms with the Rainbow recount;
Green, green is the Olive on ALBION'S brow,
And the Lily and Pink to the Olive must bow!
Bloom on the day,
Thou Olive gay, &c.

Thou Olive divine, may Eternity's Sun
Beam warm where thy roots thro' the ages shall run;
The Dew of Affection 'light soft where they twine,
And the Love of an Universe stamp thee divine!
Bloom on the day,
Thou Olive gay:
'Matchless was he
Who planted thee;
And mayst thou like him immortal be!'

poem by James Henry Leigh Hunt
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An Olive Fire

An olive fire's a lovely thing;
Somehow it makes me think of Spring
As in my grate it over-spills
With dancing flames like daffodils.
They flirt and frolic, twist and twine,
The brassy fire-irons wink and shine. . . .
Leap gold, you flamelets! Laugh and sing:
An olive fire's a lovely thing.

An olive fire's a household shrine:
A crusty loaf, a jug of wine,
An apple and a chunk of cheese -
Oh I could be content with these.
But if my curse of oil is there,
To fry a fresh-caught fish, I swear
I do not envy any king,
As sitting by my hearth I sing:
An olive fire's a lovely thing.

When old and worn, of life I tire,
I'll sit before an olive fire,
And watch the feather ash like snow
As softly as a rose heart glow;
The tawny roots will loose their hoard
Of sunbeams centuries have stored,
And flames like yellow chicken's cheep,
Till in my heart Peace is so deep:
With hands prayer-clasped I sleep . . . and sleep.

poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Popeye & Olive

[We could write a song together... What do you wanna write about? Whoa, very massive respone, okay, Popeye and Olive]
Popeye had a girlfriend
She was named Olive
Popeye had a girlfriend
She was named Olive
[See, they'll crowd surf to anything... a song about Popeye and Olive]

song performed by by Veruca Salt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Olive Me

olive me, why not take all?
can't you see i'm no good without you?
take these arms i wanna loose 'em
take these lips i'll never use them.
your goodbye left me with eyes
how can i go one day without you?
you took the best, so why not take the rest?
why not take olive me?
olive me, why not take all of me?
can't you see i'm no good without you?
take these arms, i wanna loose 'em
take these lips, i'll never use them.
your goodbye left me with eyes that cry
how can i go one day without?
you took the part that once was my heart
why not take olive me

song performed by by NOFX
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Wood Song

Now one and all, you Roses,
Wake up, you lie too long!
This very morning closes
The Nightingale his song;

Each from its olive chamber
His babies every one
This very morning clamber
Into the shining sun.

You Slug-a-beds and Simples,
Why will you so delay!
Dears, doff your olive wimples,
And listen while you may.

poem by Ralph Hodgson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Olive Eater.

And oh
she said

she was always
saying that

he thought
watching her place

an olive in her mouth
and oh

she repeated
this is not

what I expected it
to taste like at all

and she licked
two of her fingers

one after the other
and quite sexually

he mused
sitting opposite her

in the French cafe
taking in

her bright eyes
and the openness

of her mouth
and the tongue licking

and she said
I thought it’d have been sharper

more exciting
more out of this world

and he thought
how simple she is

how childlike
in her expression

and in the way she utters
her words

and she looked at him
and said

what are you thinking?
What’s going on

in that bright brain of yours?
And he said

oh that would be telling
wouldn’t it

that would be
allowing you

into my head
and she laughed

and sat there
with her wet fingers

just before him
as she waited

to pluck another
olive off the plate

and he allowed his eyes
to settle like butterflies

on her breasts
just momentarily

just sufficiently
to drink in

the beauty there
and she said

do you want one?
Do you want an olive

to eat or suck?
No no

he said
and thought

I’d like another
fresh fruit

to touch
and pluck.

poem by Terry Collett
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An olive branch

Can that happen ever?
Wars are averted forever
Olive branch in one hand with message of peace
For millions of people to live at ease

Many may doubt and see it as impossible
The wars are imposed and forcible
Slight provocation can engulf entire world
No country can afford to keep the relation in cold

Has world ever witnessed winning of war without fight?
Who would judge our action and emphatically say right?
Can peace be taken as last hope to see the light?
The peace should not be lost out of sight

Yes, mere gesture or process with olive branch is imprcaticable
The impossible result is achieved through and histroy can be tracable
World with the piles of atmoic weapons can’t dare to fight
Only peace with olive branch can lead us and make it alright

There may be threat behind olive branch diplomacy
Still it has increased the peace efforts with frequency
The world doesn’t want misery in the form of another war
We have missed opportunity but still are not very far

With deterrence on one hand and olive branch on another
The blame may be passed on to others
There may still be hidden efforts to defuse
No one may want wart but refuse

Olive branch strategy is right means of persuation
The war is ruled out and is out of question
There may be complete annihilation and destruction
It can succeed with powerful message and instruction

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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I come bearing an olive branch in one hand, and the freedom fighter's gun in the other. Do not let the olive branch fall from my hand.

quote by Yasser Arafat
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Red Browed Finches

Red browed finches or red browed firetails two names they are known by
They like to live near cover where from bush to tree they fly
The reason they live near cover the well informed say
Is that they need places to hide in from bigger birds of prey.

Dark olive green in colour red eyebrows, red rump and olive tail
And with only minor differences between the female and the male
Their calls rather high pitched sound a bit like tizeee
Familiar to bushy places and birds one often see.

In a flask shaped nest of dried grass in a thorny bush the female her eggs lay
Six to seven or even eight eggs that look more white than gray
They breed from September to November in Australia in the south
And their young in December can be seen flying about.

They never seem to venture far from the cover of the trees
And they eat grass seeds and insects and sometimes berries and bees
With red eyebrows, red bills and red rumps and darkish olive green
Australia's red browed fnches by cover often seen.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Lamentable

Lamentable

Behind my cottage there was an olive grove
someone came knocked down the trees for
a better view, but it wasn’t true they built
four thousand dwellings instead and called
it a security zone. And then they built a wall
so I can’t see my lost olive grove.

The world agree with me this is all wrong,
but tells me I, for the sake of peace, must
understand and give way. I have understood
for sixty years and given way so many times,
and I know now I made a mistake to let their
cattle graze on our common land

poem by Oskar Hansen
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In the Eyes of a Broken Heart

August 9,2009
In the Eyes of a Broken Heart
Composed by Olive

I can feel the deep pain
Pain from loving someone
I can see the hurt of broken pieces
Bleeding and weak
In the eyes of a broken heart
You can see nothing but sorrow
Tears of loneliness
Cry for emptiness
Walking in the shadows of darkness
Feeling the cold breeze
In the eyes of broken heart
There is only one thing left
A broken world

poem by Olive Silverstone
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Oddfellowship in Woodstock

Well tell a tale, it shall be brief
It is of rise of Maple Leaf,
From noble Olive Branch it sprung,
And its good deeds shall yet be sung ;
This Encampment, though in its youth,
Glories in friendship, love, and truth
Of all our lodges yet the chief
May be this youthful Maple Leaf ;
Built of good timber, it doth launch
Well worthy of the Olive Branch,
And though it only is a shoot
We hope that it will take deep root,
And soon be vigorous Maple tree
In Canada so broad and free.
And may its usefulness ne'er cease
Sprung from the Olive Branch of peace,
But comfort brothers in distress,
Widows and orphans it will bless,
And console them in their grief,
Protected by the Maple Leaf.
Poor travellers in the wilderness
They oft do suffer great distress,
But may no pilgrim get rude shock
Sojourning here in Woodstock.

poem by James McIntyre
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A Sad Wake Up

October 21,2009
A Sad Morning

Composed by olive

One morning I wake up
My heart was so weighty
Crying so hard
I saw a girl crying in her bed
And her mom just came
I saw that girl muttered
I heard her heart talked
Of a soft whisper, of a longing
That one day
She will never be alone
In the world she used to live
Absence of a strong foundation
Of a hug from her mom
And her Papa abandoned them
That morning
I heard the tongue speak
No words came out but tears of a sad wake up.

poem by Olive Silverstone
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Bound for your distant home

Bound for your distant home
you were leaving alien lands.
In an hour as sad as I’ve known
I wept over your hands.
My hands were numb and cold,
still trying to restrain
you, whom my hurt told
never to end this pain.

But you snatched your lips away
from our bitterest kiss.
You invoked another place
than the dismal exile of this.
You said, ‘When we meet again,
in the shadow of olive-trees,
we shall kiss, in a love without pain,
under cloudless infinities.’

But there, alas, where the sky
shines with blue radiance,
where olive-tree shadows lie
on the waters glittering dance,
your beauty, your suffering,
are lost in eternity.
But the sweet kiss of our meeting ......
I wait for it: you owe it me .......

poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
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I have olive skin, so if I get pale, I look green. I have to tan.

quote by Nicole Richie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Veggie Poetry

steamed okra
round, red, shiny tomatoes
violet onion, some white spring ones
and hot chili
with black pepper
some olive oil
and rosemary herbs for flavoring
a little salt
a little sugar
suit to your exquisite, exotic asian taste
add some more other
herbs and hot spices

mix them in a bowl
shed some tears
for summer salt
add some green lettuce
and black olives
and pickles to taste

pick some
then chew

do not swallow yet
take your time

enjoy your veggie poetry
do not take any meat
or poultry

now take your time alone
eat

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Clothes And Underwear

shades and
black shiny shoes
and white socks

and olive green polo shirts
a red jockey underwear
and king's pants

a rolex wristwatch
reading glasses
they are all spread
randomly on
a carpeted floor

all these are useless.
removed from you
and her.

she moans.you are
naked.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When Every Year Valentine's Day Comes

That day the sky was olive green
And the two green parrots repeated the words
'I love you'
Who exactly taught the birds to speak those words
I didn't know
But I knew it was easy to tell these words
in a moment of togetherness

The sun no longer shone in the sky
It was not the sunset still
She promised to come before the sunset.
she came and sat close to me.
She looked like an angel

To my surprise, she was clad in olive green
She was for me the sky
She greeted me with a casual 'hi'
She asked a series of questions
One question was -
'What date is today? '
I told '14th Feb'
'And just that? Nothing more? '
I stared at her face and she looked at the seashore.

She was silent in the twilight
Wanted to tell me something, all right.
But what did she want to say?
She only said 'Dont you know it's Valentine's Day?

I got back to my senses.
I was not in mine minutes before.
It was Valentine's day sure
It was, I heard, ' a lover's day, sure.
I wanted to apologise
I was so busy telling her ' I love you'
I missed what day it was.

But when I realised that it was
Valentine's Day
I forgot her call, her messges
I only remembered those three magical words
'I love you'

But she had left the place long ago
She is gone, gone for ever...

Still when every year Valentine's Day comes
I feel that it is my first love day
And I will whisper in my beloved' ears
'I love you'.

poem by Ratan Bhattacharjee
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Myriad Shades Of Green

The forest weaves
myriad green shades
from lime and olive
to kelly green and jade
as it keeps on knitting
its cooling shade

poem by Saiom Shriver
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