A Rare Truth
Bloom could the cherries no more,
The haste that burdened,
Made visionary the sight,
Restrictions frequent but pure,
Had not known,
The cold bare winter tree,
That stood all day long,
To which history had shared the secret.
Once it happened so,
A bird wingless sought shelter too,
For the black ghosty witch had entered,
And into the button staid eyes,
The irony lay, the heart shivered,
Till the fear traveled and made cold the bones,
The weighty burden was carried,
Until downloading lightened the shoulders,
The sky shone making the air sweet,
And the lips smiled with the curves of joy,
All was seen a rare truth of dependent history.
poem by Uzma Jamil
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Black History Month
In January...
There they are making history.
In February...
There they are making history.
In March...
There they are making history.
In April...
There they are making history.
In May...
There they are making history.
In June...
There they are making history.
In July...
There they are making history.
In August...
There they are making history.
In September...
There they are making history.
In October...
There they are making history.
In November...
There they are making history.
In December...
There they are making history.
But...
It's nice to know
The shortest month of the year
Was chosen to celebrate
The great deeds of African-Americans!
However...
It is those LEAP YEARS,
That really have the blacks jumping for joy!
Note: 'Black History Month' along with other
works of interest can be found in...
*'MindPrints from Untouched Places-VOL I'*
~Now available online at a PC near you~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Cold Winter Night
on a cold winter night
frost in the air
an angel is born
but it just isn`t fair
i know in my heart
you`ll always be near
but life without you
i just couldn`t bare
i want you to know
just how much i cared
the times that we had
the life that we shared
as you leave out of sight
on this cold winter night
i love you sweet jen
sleep tight
poem by Joseph Whelan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My History Teacher
My ice cold blood
[you're not a warm-blooded creature]
Your ice cold stare
Is my HISTORY TEACHER
I sewed my heart up one little stich at a time
One shotty job done, it is true, but I
couldn't do it by myself, you coulda done the rest
But you went and ripped it right outta my chest
My ice cold blood
[you're not a warm-blooded creature]
Your ice cold stare
Is my HISTORY TEACHER
I wasn't even finished
I needed more thread
I got distracted by the
'Good' ideas you put in my head
My ice cold blood
[you're not a warm-blooded creature]
Your ice cold stare
Is my HISTORY TEACHER
You remind me of my delicate past
You remind me I'm good for nothing
You tell me that you love me[lies]
And remind me I wont be anything
My ice cold blood
[you're not a warm-blooded creature]
Your ice cold stare
Is my HISTORY TEACHER
You make me remeber what I've done
Because you make me remember I have no friends
You make me remeber It's all my fault
For making my happiness end
My ice cold blood
[you're not a warm-blooded creature]
Your ice cold stare
Is my HISTORY TEACHER
My ice cold blood
[you're not a warm-blooded creature]
Your ice cold stare
Is my HISTORY TEACHER
poem by Gabriella Franco
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Calico Plains
(matraca berg/mike noble)
Sweet abilena looks out at the midwestern sky
Sweet seventeen with a faraway look in her eyes
She said, I feel like a bird in a cage
But come september Im flying away
I said, Im gonna miss you then I made her promise to write
Since we were tall as the corn in the spring
We shared every secret, shared every dream
So anxious to grow in the new summer rain
And bloom like a rose on the calico plains
How could she hear as we laughed on that warm summer night
The tiny heart of the baby she carried inside
I stood beside her when september came
Watched her get married and caught the bouquet
And like those hand me down dresses she gave me
I made her dreams mine
From a seat by the window on wings made of steel
I stared at the patchwork over the fields
Where young tears that once fell like warm summer rain
Were turning to snow on the calico plains
Sweet abilena looks out at the midwestern sky
Closer to thirty but farther away in her eyes
She holds her babies like she holds her dreams
Each night she kisses and rocks them to sleep while
She reads the letters she makes me promise to write
Sweet abliena looks out at the midwestern sky
song performed by by Pam Tillis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Snow falls in spring
snow falls, winter starts.
We walk and have fun
But soon to be cold.
We now search for shelter.
Snow falling, Its winter
still to find our shelter
we need from the cold.
Snow remains, Its winter
were leaveing our shelther
we made from the snow,
But we remain cold.
Snow fell, Its over
spring has now started
Its warm and peaceful.
Our shelter is gone we
no longer need it
Spring has now started.
poem by Micheal Weston
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
You are now history
It is so sad,
And of course, mad
The steps we made,
Our hopes and wishes,
You are history now
I thought we wouldnt,
But yes we sank,
The water was salty,
Our wounds it revitalised,
So cold,
Our hopes so frozen,
You are now history
Guess what, you broke my heart,
Yet I dont miss you,
You were nice I know,
You destroyed us we know
You are history now
poem by Gaylord Munemo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Beautiful Camellias
The camellias bloom in Winter when the skies are cold and gray
When the sun shines at it's weakest and the Spring seems far away
Each tree an individual by the shade of flowers they bear
An avenue of camellias of one shade of flowers more often than not rare.
In shades of pink and creams and reds the colours one might name
Each is an individual for no two look the same
The beautiful camellias resplendent in their flowers
They bloom in lawn and garden on Winter's coldest hours.
In late fall in Victoria in the Southern Hemisphere
The flower buds on camellia tell Winter days are near
And before the wattles come to bloom towards the end of July
The flowers on the camellia tree lose their petals and die.
The beautiful camellias bloom in the cold winter showers
And long before the southern spring they will have lost their flowers
And on June's coldest and wettest day great beauty I can see
A mass of pink flowers blooming on the green camellia tree.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Wintertime
Winter has come with his cold breeze
Oh how I missed the long nights and cold air
Noble winter do as whatever you please
Some bees hide in their trees
The fauna and flora in winter so rare
Winter has come with his cold breeze
You all mighty of all season that freeze the seas
Warm us with your artic flare
Noble winter do as whatever you please
Oh great winter now that I m on my knees
The snow might have something to spare
Winter has come with his cold breeze
Yesterday was like a gentle kiss
There where so many stars to stare
Noble winter do as whatever you please
So you have brought us many diseases
Now in winter people so scare
Winter has come with his cold breeze
Noble winter do as whatever you please
poem by Ayrtonn Bautista
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lines: The cold earth slept below
The cold earth slept below;
Above the cold sky shone;
And all around,
With a chilling sound,
From caves of ice and fields of snow
The breath of night like death did flow
Beneath the sinking moon.
The wintry hedge was black;
The green grass was not seen;
The birds did rest
On the bare thorn's breast,
Whose roots, beside the pathway track,
Had bound their folds o'er many a crack
Which the frost had made between.
Thine eyes glow'd in the glare
Of the moon's dying light;
As a fen-fire's beam
On a sluggish stream
Gleams dimly--so the moon shone there,
And it yellow'd the strings of thy tangled hair,
That shook in the wind of night.
The moon made thy lips pale, belov{`e}d;
The wind made thy bosom chill;
The night did shed
On thy dear head
Its frozen dew, and thou didst lie
Where the bitter breath of the naked sky
Might visit thee at will.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Memory
I
I nursed it in my bosom while it lived,
I hid it in my heart when it was dead;
In joy I sat alone, even so I grieved
Alone and nothing said.
I shut the door to face the naked truth,
I stood alone—I faced the truth alone,
Stripped bare of self-regard or forms or ruth
Till first and last were shown.
I took the perfect balances and weighed;
No shaking of my hand disturbed the poise;
Weighed, found it wanting: not a word I said,
But silent made my choice.
None know the choice I made; I make it still.
None know the choice I made and broke my heart,
Breaking mine idol: I have braced my will
Once, chosen for once my part.
I broke it at a blow, I laid it cold,
Crushed in my deep heart where it used to live.
My heart dies inch by inch; the time grows old,
Grows old in which I grieve.
II
I have a room whereinto no one enters
Save I myself alone:
There sits a blessed memory on a throne,
There my life centres.
While winter comes and goes—oh tedious comer!—
And while its nip-wind blows;
While bloom the bloodless lily and warm rose
Of lavish summer.
If any should force entrance he might see there
One buried yet not dead,
Before whose face I no more bow my head
Or bend my knee there;
But often in my worn life's autumn weather
I watch there with clear eyes,
And think how it will be in Paradise
When we're together.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Was Meant To Be With You
It started out when adam
First laid his eyes on eve
Something passed between them
That came down through history
Carried by an angel
Whispered on the breeze
It waited till the time was right
Then it found you and me
Chorus
It must be written on a block of stone
Buried by sand in an ancient land
Carved upon the side of the oldest tree
It must be more than just a dream come true
Yes I believe the good lord always knew
I was meant to be with you
Standing here beside you
In my heart I know
This love that we were meant to share
Began so long ago
As sure as rain was made to fall
And mountains made to stand
I was born to be with you
There was nothing left to chance
Chorus
From the beginning to the end of time
I was to be yours, you were to be mine
song performed by by Diamond Rio
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Miss You
We used to laugh we used to sing
You made me feel like I was a king
We used to dance and loved romance
We shared a life, so glad you were my wife
We planted flowers in the spring
So glad you wore my ring
We took walks in the park
On a tree we carved our mark
What i would give to see you once again
Go back in time so I can hug you sweet Jen
All I can do is remember you
In this rhyme so blue
My eyes tear at the picture of you
My heart broke on that cold winter night
So sad I couldn`t fix and make you right
But God called you into his light
A heaven made so bright
By the presence of a new angel that night
poem by Joseph Whelan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Blackstars of beautiful twilight
Winding all the black thoughts of the golden children upon the lost divinity
Enriching the black history of warm words and the soulful sounds of silent dignity
Lining all the black rimes to the history walls painted by the cold face of humanity
Igniting the black sparks of the twisted science of reality upon these cold swords of invalidity
Looking towards the bright future of the black poetry, we proudly declare the shine of cold thought mortality
Enhancing the forever shine of all Blackstrars, brings about my finding of true serenity
Blackstrars of beautiful twilight shine upon my forever...spark the joy and pride upon my black mind
Blackstrars of beautiful twilight shine upon the land of my black history and dreams, be the vision and true joy of my black kind.
poem by Sicelo Sithole
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Flight To Nature
SICK of the crowd, the toil, the strife,
Sweet Nature, how I turn to thee,
Seeking for renovated life,
By brawling brook and shady tree!
I knew thy rocks had spells of old,
To soothe the wanderer's woe to calm,
And in thy waters, clear and cold,
My fev'rish brow would seek for balm.
I've bent beneath thy ancient oak,
And sought for slumber in its shade,
And, as the clouds above me broke,
I dream'd to find the boon I pray'd;
For light--a blessed light--was given,
Wide streaming round me from above,
And in the deep, deep vaults of heaven,
There shone, methought, a look of love.
And, through the long, long summer hours,
When every bird had won its wing,
How sweet to think, amidst thy flowers,
That youth might yet renew its spring;--
That sacred season of the heart,
When every pulse with hope is strong,
And, still untaught by selfish art,
Truth fears no guile, and love no wrong.
And who, but nature's self, could yield
The blessing in the prayer I made,
Throned in her realm of wood and field,
Of rocky realm and haunted shade?
Who, but that magic queen, whose sway
Drives winter from his path of strife,
Whilst all her thousand fingers play,
With bud and bird, in games of life!
With these a kindred life I ask,--
Not wealth that mortals vainly seek;
But, in heaven's sunshine let me bask,
My heart as glowing as my cheek;--
An idle heart, that would not heed
That chiding voice, when duty comes,
To drag the soul, but freshly freed,
Back to cold toils and weary glooms.
No lure she finds in mortal schemes,
Which wiser fancies still reprove,--
Far happier in her woodland dreams,
With one sweet teacher, taught by love!
Thou, Nature, that magician be,
Restore each dream that taught the boy,
That warm'd his hope, that made him free,
While wisdom took the shape of joy;
And I will bless thee with a song,
As fond as hers, that idle bird,
That sings above me all day long,
As if she knew I watch'd and heard.
poem by William Gilmore Simms
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Eternal winter
Winter came and would not leave
It’s been too long since I have felt
This darkness knows only 1 weave
An ice so hard, it cannot melt
It’s all that fills my hollow soul
A soul stripped bare like winter’s heart
A half that will never be whole,
Yet lives for that one missing part
My days are empty in my wake
Deserted of all need or meaning
A cold routine I cannot break
Too numb, too late, my heart is weeping
At night I lie alone in bed
With only Silence by my side
For long ago have we been wed
His frozen arms enclose his bride
I gave up waiting for a sign
I can no longer show my rage
My sanity is on the line,
Yet I embrace this dead-cold cage
And so I sit thinking of love
The irony none can comprehend
I relish my eternal winter
And pray for summer once again.
poem by Diva Khoury
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Tombstone Told When She Died
The tombstone told when she died.
Her two surnames stopped me still.
A virgin married at rest.
She married in this pouring place,
That I struck one day by luck,
Before I heard in my mother's side
Or saw in the looking-glass shell
The rain through her cold heart speak
And the sun killed in her face.
More the thick stone cannot tell.
Before she lay on a stranger's bed
With a hand plunged through her hair,
Or that rainy tongue beat back
Through the devilish years and innocent deaths
To the room of a secret child,
Among men later I heard it said
She cried her white-dressed limbs were bare
And her red lips were kissed black,
She wept in her pain and made mouths,
Talked and tore though her eyes smiled.
I who saw in a hurried film
Death and this mad heroine
Meet once on a mortal wall
Heard her speak through the chipped beak
Of the stone bird guarding her:
I died before bedtime came
But my womb was bellowing
And I felt with my bare fall
A blazing red harsh head tear up
And the dear floods of his hair.
poem by Dylan Thomas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Cold....
Cold....
It's so cold...
going inside my brain-house
doesn't mean anything new
for me
even more and more for you
within my tortured innocent inspiration
I continue to survive throw
my poems half-killed
with blood springs instead of eyes
with despair sky instead of dreams
my poems more than a life light
more than the largest sight
I see,
It is so cold
more in
then outside
because of your complacency,
It's really cold
till to the bones of my words
Cold....
poem by Vasil Marku
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Rose Tree Of Winter
In the cold winds of Winter she stands thorny and bare
In Summer large beautiful red flowers she did wear
The Rose tree of Winter not a pretty sight
At a time of year with litle warmth in the sunlight,
When the birds in the sunlit gardens will nest and sing
She will wear her new leaves and rosebuds of the Spring
As a tree the rose tree does not grow very tall
Compared to most trees she does seem very small
But in her full bloom none as lovely as she
In her cloak of flowers she's a beautiful tree
But in Winter she stands there by the garden wall
Of the garden trees the most forlorn one of all
And though it may still be a few months from the Spring
The white backed magpie on the blackwood tree sing
But without her leaves and flowers prickly looking and bare
The rose tree looks drab in the cool morning air.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Interlude
The air was still and trees in the forest stood in frozen silence.
A rare day, animals listened to the echo of last summer.
Hare trails in the snow made without haste, the persecuted
had nothing to fear on a day when mountain lions dream.
The bear in its den deep under an oak tree, dreamless sleep
whether still or storm, but do not wake him up before spring.
Tranquillity of peace is only a brief interlude, kill or be killed,
eat or starve are wild life’s merciless destiny. Calm cracks as
the cold intensifies; there will be a toll to pay if spring is too
late with its promise of continuity. Behind the forest, where
the blue mountain begins, a pack of wolves howl to the moon,
the soul of hunters lied bare in an endless nocturnal dream.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Villanelle
We said farewell, my youth and I,
When all fair dreams were gone or going,
And Love’s red lips were cold and dry.
When white blooms fell from tree-tops high—
Our Austral winter’s way of snowing—
We said farewell, my youth and I.
We did not sigh—what use to sigh
When Death passed as a mower mowing,
And Love’s red lips were cold and dry?
But hearing Life’s stream thunder by,
That sang of old through flowers flowing,
We said farewell, my youth and I.
There was no hope in the blue sky,
No music in the low winds blowing,
And Love’s red lips were cold and dry.
My hair is black as yet, then why
So sad! I know not, only knowing
We said farewell, my youth and I.
All are not buried when they die;
Dead souls there are through live eyes showing
When Love’s red lips are cold and dry.
So, seeing where the dead men lie,
Out of their hearts the grave-flowers growing,
We said farewell, my youth and I,
When Love’s red lips were cold and dry.
poem by Victor James Daley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!