Related quotes: I know, you don’t enjoy...

A Poetic Prayer

I know, you don’t
enjoy reading me
I know , it lacks
metaphor and simile!

But, I 've poured
true emotions on it
As I am trying to redeem
soul of a culprit!

Yes, Tears, sighs or wails
had no impact on me!
Alas, I ate, drank and
acted care free!

That shame
Of being indifferent!
Of being a wastrel!
Can be mend

Allow me
to make a new beginning
May be,
I can turn into a blessing!

poem by Ashish Dimri
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A Boy Growing Up In The Sixties

Played football
played marbles
played cricket
played truant.
First girl
first kiss
first fumble
first slap.
Drank orange
drank Cola
drank lemonade
drank beer.
Acted tough
acted silly
acted up
acted the fool.
Just young
just a boy
just a lad
just me.
The sixties
The Beatles
The Stones
The Who.
Great days
great times
great decade
Great Britain.

poem by Kevin Halls
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Pass The Jam

I don't care
They're crazy
Said pass the jam, would you
Awfully kind of you
Now wouldn't it be a little bit nice to sing with this
Gazing at the open door
Just what lays behind
Thinking what I'm looking for
Say what's on my mind
Sinking ever deeper
In the words of guilt of shame
And now I can redeem myself
I just don't care
The words I'm singing they're just right
That's better for my brain
If I try to make much sense
You know I'll go insane
I just don't care
I just don't care
Stay and have some jam with tea
But Brutus wasn't kind
Wasn't strawberries that were red
He wasn't cutting bread
You pass the jam
And so he slammed the tea
?????? here to me
Was in the conservatory
Yeah, alright
Yes, but still over there
Sinking ever deeper
In the words of guilt and shame
I can redeem myself
I just don't care
Staring at the silver spoon
Take it from your mouth
Take it from the chapter
Turn and face the south
Now face the north
And the east
And the west
And the ?serpent song?
Still burning on in the night
Where's the sun at midnight
Say it's gone
Where's the moon at dawn
It carries on and on
It never ends
To the land of nevermore
Where time began
Where the man still stands
And the ??'x'?? at the end
Never know that I sang
You'll all know it's the right place
In time, well it is
The words I'm singing
That's just right
They're better for my brain
If I try to make much sense
You know I'll go insane
-a

song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Mock Self

Few friends are mine, though many wights there be
Who, meeting oft a phantasm that makes claim
To be myself, and hath my face and name,
And whose thin fraud I wink at privily,
Account this light impostor very me.
What boots it undeceive them, and proclaim
Myself myself, and whelm this cheat with shame?
I care not, so he leave my true self free,
Impose not on me also; but alas!
I too, at fault, bewildered, sometimes take
Him for myself, and far from mine own sight,
Torpid, indifferent, doth mine own self pass;
And yet anon leaps suddenly awake,
And spurns the gibbering mime into the night.

poem by William Watson
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Poet of the People

Cries out good people, listen to my voice
I would hsve you understand, my feelngs
for this land, my deep emotions for
nature's wonders. my melancholy nostalgia
for times gone by

good people of this land, stop a moment
listen to my sighs, and cries,
reveal to you in metaphor, majestic language
those deep down stirrings of the heart
I conjure up for you

lay before your mind and ears
the tragedy of my tears and fears,
paint the passing of the years
alas the poet does not know it
few so very few will pass the time
or spend a dime

poem by Shimon Weinroth
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Execute The Sounds

I'm on a mad style
Underground, we come cool and deadly
With that natural sound
It make you feel so free, you no turn it down
Vibe 6-19 from the Southtown
And Jah know, what I and I wanna do
Because Jah know, I am man stay true
You know Jah know, the real who is who
Ain't no time to fake it, make ya feel brand new
It goes 1,2,3. The crew is called P.O.D.
And if you wanna go to the tip top
Break it down, with that one drop - Whyoo
Execute the sounds, and positive come around
Impact the sounds, positive all around
Execute the sounds, and positive come around
Impact the sounds, positive all around
Now why mess me, try to take his crown.
Babylon test me, we gonna smash em down
Original O.G. this is my playground
Don't take me seriously, you gonna feel it now
I man, you know the harder they come
Because I man, I'm gonna get the job done
You know I man, no they don't want none
Me never have to cheat cause me already won.
19'04, home to the real hardcore.
And you don't wanna sleep, don't talk
I'll break you down with that one drop - Whyoo
Execute the sounds, and positive come around
Impact the sounds, positive all around
Execute the sounds, and positive come around
Impact the sounds, positive all around
Execute the sounds, and positive come around
Impact the sounds, positive all around
Execute the sounds, and positive come around
Impact the sounds, positive all around

song performed by by P.O.D.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Only

You are my Only;
the One.

My Heart clamors down
from its dusty shelves
over-joyed
pounding true for you.

My doilies fold.

I see deep pools in your eyes
and swim there
splashing up
huge helpings of my soul.

I'm Metaphor, Simile and Noun
for you;
lift my soul skirts;
stand naked before you;

whip up joyful tear soups;
bless everything you've touched;
anvil stamp
your spirit
to my eyelids.

Yes, it is love;
I think
Love itself loves you.

I know.
Love told me
its True.

It sits quietly with us
floating our souls.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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We blame conveniently.

A stole from B.
Who is the culprit?
If it is A, why did B steal from C?

A theft occurred.
Who is the culprit?
The greed to get or
The greed to hoard.

A boy teased a girl.
Who is the culprit?
His thirst or her looks.

A tree fell down.
Who is the culprit?
The storm or the soil.

We fix the culprit conveniently.
11.06.2007.

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A Common Addiction among Poets

Intoxicated by the inspiration
Of his trade—
With mental powers at work,
A true poet rarely sleeps.
His mind ever churning
With powerful imagery
That produces thought,
Sound, rhythm and gesture.
He molds with metaphor,
Shapes with simile,
And paints with irony—
To produce a beautiful symphony
(Like some great maestro) ,
For himself and all who would enjoy.
Little wonder he rarely sleeps.

poem by Walterrean Salley
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Ipse Requie

I'd like to die in September,
For die I eventually must,
When Connecticut's leaves, I remember,
Are beginning to turn into rust;
And Coronado's barrier island
Has battled her hurricanes all,
And our home was safe on the high land;
Yes, I'd like to go in the fall.
When the pecans are coming in season
By Chattahoochee's shore,
And these Islands, for God's love and reason,
Where the wind and the surf can both roar.
It's the month of my birth and my mother's,
It's the time I would joyfully go;
I can leave this old world to you others,
Free of pain, free of care, free of woe.
So, Dear God, if you're list'ning in Heaven,
One last blessing I ask of You now;
I thank You for all You have given,
And for all that I've left to endow.
Please let me die in September,
With blessings to all that I love,
And when this old body's an ember,
Let my soul be in Heaven above.

poem by John Bliven Morin
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Fire On My Body

You give me tears but do not wipe it!
Baby you break my heart bit by bit!

Your lovers make me jealous cause I am unlucky
My hands and legs are tied up only you can free me.

You set fire on my body by attracting me
But you don’t care to extinguish it now I see!

Although you have spouse you make love with couple of guys
They molested you to enjoy sex so my soul cries!

poem by Asif Andalib
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A Letter to Hilary

Oh Hilary, dear Hilary;
you must not think ill of me,
though this letter be tardy,
it is mercifully short.
Oh Hilary, dear Hilary;
no metaphor or simile,
can express in mere words,
my true feelings and thoughts!

Oh Hilary, dear Hilary;
this I say, verily,
the distance between us
must not temper my view.
If I might speak of Hilary,
and of nothing ancillary:
as every day passes
I'm thinking of you!

For my love, my dear Hilary,
pumps through vein and capillary,
as my heart thumps out
it's horrible beat.
For love, my dear Hilary,
is the liqueur and distillery,
mellow, mature;
an intoxicant neat!

But if you, my dear Hilary,
would condemn me, and pillory,
a dissembler of words
and execrable verse;
then I, my dear Hilary,
would submit to your devilry,
and bravely bare up
under your terrible curse.

For love comes, my dear Hilary,
like the drum of artillery,
though it too can be vanquished
in bloody defeat.
Love comes, my dear Hilary,
not as the White Knight of chivalry,
but as a war of emotions,
both bitter and sweet.

But if, my dear Hilary,
I speak a tad too familiarly,
then you have my permission
to tear up this page.
For it is your choice, my dear Hilary,
to dismiss this as villainy,
or the ramblings of a mind
grown feeble with age!

For you, my dear Hilary,
should be paid a large salary,
to compensate truly,
for reading this tripe.
For alas, my dear Hilary,
I can only tender apology,
the worthless coin and the currency,
for this twaddle and hype!

poem by David SmithWhite
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Critique Of Poetry

A poem is a sorry thing,
Not fit for reading to a king:
It’s often full of silly rhymes
That waste a lot of people’s times.

But modern poets can’t rhyme at all,
Which really is abominable;
Their rhythm quickly gets all out of whack,
Because I guess it just seems like for rhythm and rhyme they don’t have the necessary knack.

Phrases created on demand
Which nobody can understand,
Like wool that's thrown across a fence
And stirred until it is quite dense.

Syntax gets twisted out of shape
Not unlike a grinning ape -
Examples which of, I think cannot,
So, yet to learn have I a lot.

Poems do not make much sense
When talking of abstract sentiments
Or waffle philosophical
On subjects what ain’t topical.

A poem can be so abstruse
It makes you feel you’re quite obtuse;
You scratch your head until it’s sore,
And still can’t follow any more.

So poets often write of love,
Usually rhymed with “heaven above”,
Neither of which they know about -
But mostly they are not found out.

And many a poet is a bore
With simile and metaphor
That fill up many an empty line
With silly thoughts like yours and mine.

A simile is like a ball
(Or maybe not - I can’t recall) ,
Or like a man who runs around
And never seems to touch the ground.

A metaphor’s a stranger’s child,
And so to you it might seem wild;
But just when you think, “This is rum! ”
It up and bites you in the part of the anatomy on which a homo sapiens normally sits.

Now, if you think you’ve got my drift,
Then you have a very special gift,
‘Cause I can’t understand myself -
So, best to leave me on the shelf!

poem by Rory Hudson
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In Pursuit Of Happiness

In the pursuit of happiness, ..
I have crossed many bridges…
Climbed many mountains
& traveled many roads;
Some very smooth..
some very bumpy..
I have run very fast…
sometimes very slow…
But, nevertheless,
I have learned my lessons…
I have learned the hard & painful way…
That not all dreams come true..
Happiness becomes a matter.
of the mind and the heart…
Now I cry without tears...
& try to mend my broken heart…

Now I realize..
that where there is an ending..
There is a new beginning..
& what I thought was a loss..
turned out to be..
a blessing from the sky...

poem by Romeo Della Valle
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Invincible Love

You attract me like no other
The black hole to my sun
You captivate me like nothing else
The way you smile could put angels to shame
The way you laugh could put singers to shame

If you gave me a chance you'd realize
That I am perfect for you
In every possible way
I smile when you smile
Cry when you cry
Laugh because you laugh
Hurt when you're hurt

I would make you happy
No nightmares would corrupt your dreams
For I'd sleep next to you all night
No ailments would wrack your body
For I would keep you safe and warm
No demons could invade you
For I'd protect you from all harm

None could ever hurt you
For I would be there
To catch you when you fall
To mend your broken heart
To wipe your falling tears
To push you off the road

I would never hurt from these
For the only one who could hurt me is you
If you forsook me

I would jump in front of a bus for you
But I would that you'd be there to mend me
I would take your demons
If you would exorcise me
I would wipe your tears
If you would wipe mine
I would mend your heart
If you won't break mine

Truly, I say to you
I am invincible
With you at my side
As are you
With me

poem by Gwenevere Cornwell
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Not What You See

Love is not what you see
Love is bond and makes you feel free
Enjoy and be part of dreamy world
Always nice to be together in lovely fold

Don’t feel alone as we are one
We can make it nice one by one
You have your own way
But stay near and don't go away

Make it easy to take free air
No foul play and treatment very fair
This is strongest desire from female partner
As you will be her protector and Gardner

It doesn’t matter what you try and seek
It always matters that you remain strong and not turn weak
Love demands sacrifice at every turn
It is both the ways and mandatory to return

Why expect that only females may surrender?
They will have no say and merely fall under
For what has been unsaid and agreed for
So utmost care to be taken not to turn the relation sour

I have heard it number of times
The promises are forgotten sometimes
It may happen when tide turns in disfavor
Yet it should not be at the cost of personal honor

Leave it besides if it costs your relation
No bad emotions should be given any indication
Effort should be on to improve upon
The bond will not be lost but certainly won

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Sonnet 95: Yet Sighs, dear Sighs

Yet Sighs, dear Sighs, indeed true friends you are,
That do not leave your least friend at the worst,
But as you with my breast I oft have nurs'd,
So grateful now you wait upon my care.

Faint coward Joy no longer tarry dare,
Seeing Hope yield when this woe strake him first:
Delight protests he is not for th'accurst,
Though oft himself my mate-in-arms he sware.

Nay Sorrow comes with such main rage, that he
Kills his own children, Tears, finding that they
By love were made apt to consort with me.

Only, true Sighs, you do not go away;
Thank may you have for such a thankful part,
Thank-worthiest yet when you shall break my heart.

poem by Philip Sidney
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The Storyteller's Word

In a decent book, I can lose myself,
For, at least, a good couple of hours.
A well told story, for young or old,
My mind will quite hungrily devour.

I’ve always loved a real page turner:
A story, which, is totally compelling.
Sometimes, there’s a story, true or invented,
Which, simply, deserves, and needs telling.

Sometimes, a person in a book,
To me, can feel like a true friend;
You share their life and adventures,
And feel rather sad, when it all ends.

A story can stir up a mixture of emotions:
I’ve cried tears, and gasped with surprise.
I’ve found myself completely captivated,
As a story unfolds before my very eyes.

A good story, has the ability to transport you,
To different places, and to different times.
You just never know where you may end up,
When you sit and read those immortal lines.

Stories should never be kept locked away:
With others, they should be readily shared.
There is no other past-time, known to man,
With which, reading a book, can quite compare.

Whether a story is based on a person’s life,
Or whether, it has been quite purely invented,
A story can make such an impact upon you,
That, forever, in your memory, it is cemented.

I’ve always adored a really well written story,
Regardless of, by whom, or when, it was written.
Snuggled up, with a book held in your hands,
It is so easy, to become completely smitten.

A story can make you lose all track of time,
When, in a book, you are totally immersed.
I love reading a story, and really drinking it in;
For reading books, I’ve developed a real thirst.

There are many stories, the world over,
Which, are still waiting to be heard.
Nothing on earth, is quite so powerful,
As the power of the storyteller’s word.

poem by Angela Wybrow
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Woman In Control

Woman in control 3/24/07

To all the woman who enjoy poetry
My words are here to set you free.
I can climb into your heart and soul
And release all the emotions that you hold.

Feelings that have been locked up inside
Feelings that you try to hide.
All the words that you want to say.
Yet! Never find the way.

Always relish the thought that you are like mother earth.
Brought into this world to show the beauty
And love that you posses
And for you it’s an endless test.

Your beauty is deep within your soul
It is a beauty in which you learned to control.
You can make the bad look good
And the good look bad.
You can be happy or you can be sad.
You have learned to control emotions
And to show man what they want to see
And turn around their hypocrisy.

Now when I look at your face-
I no longer see the satin and lace.
I no longer see a woman who they say is born to lose
But! An intelligent woman who can choose

poem by Louis Rams
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Tribute to failed generation

When in a pensive mood
I sit and ponder
My life past
I wonder if I have
Failed my generation,
If I have faild my
National heroes
And then if I have
Failed my fathers
But then there are
So much I can do
To redeem my
Nation
So much I can do
To redeem my generation
Even when I grow old
I would have much still to do
To make positive
Impact
In peoples' lives.
But I would start
The change
By making a change
In my own self
And then in everything I do.

poem by Efe Benjamin
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Only Desire Will Not Work

Only desire will not give good start
Feel from inner depth and start
Poetry and emotions start with tears
That speaks of your anguish to bear

Make those feeling to be heard in words
Do nothing and wait for blessings from the lord
Words have powerful impact
That makes you to cry with skill and art

You need no pen and paper
That may be like words on water
It may go away with one fresh wave
Nothing will remain in mind for others to behave

Inject emotions that must look real
Undergone with sufferings while making deal
It may then be felt by others same as you
This is principle when you are writing true

You need not ask how they feel about poems
Let it come in form of few words by them
Simple acceptance of facts may certainly make the space
You may then have satisfaction with bright shine on face