Anne Frank Where! -Anne Cycle Part 1
Anne Frank where are you
Where you are trees grown
Wrens sing larks chant
Wrens chirp, corws crow
Ashes somewhere- spread,
Mixed with soil
Wind blows- you find them in
Amsterdam, Chicago, Jakarta
I feel am lazy. So I make a bowl full
Muesli - pour refreshing, fridged
Milk onto choccie sickled half hollow shells
And crusty com hued flakes-thinking of you
Ye know, I'd chat you up, if you'd have grown to be older
And I travelled in time- I know l'll chat your sis up!
poem by Michael Witkowski
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Under Pressure'
Back Chat Back Chat
You burn all my energy
Back Chat Back Chat
Critising all you see
Back Chat Back Chat
Analysing what I say
And you always get your way
Oh yeah see what you've done to me
Back Chat Back Chat
You're driving me insane
It's a battle to the end, knock you down you
come again
Talk back, talk back you've got me on the rack
Twisting every word I say
Wind me up and get your way
Fat chance I have of making a romance
If I'm ever to get the last word in
Take it from there
Twisting every word I say
Wind me up and get your way
Back Chat Back Chat
You burn all my energy
Back Chat Back Chat
Critising all you see
Back Chat Back Chat
Analysing what I say
And you always get your way
Wake up stand up and drag yourself on out
Get down get ready
Scream and shout
Back off be cool
And learn to change your ways
Back Chat Back Chat
Back Chat Back Chat
Back Chat Back Chat
Back Chat Back Chat
Back Chat Back Chat
Back Chat Back Chat
Back Chat Back Chat
Back Chat Back Chat
Back Chat Back Chat
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Back Chat
Back chat back chat
You burn all my energy
Back chat back chat
Critising all you see
Back chat back chat
Analysing what I say
And you always get your way
Oh yeah see what youve done to me
Back chat back chat
Youre driving me insane
Its a battle to the end, knock you down you
Come again
Talk back, talk back youve got me on the rack
Twisting every word I say
Wind me up and get your way
Fat chance I have of making a romance
If Im ever to get the last word in
Take it from there
Twisting every word I say
Wind me up and get your way
Back chat back chat
You burn all my energy
Back chat back chat
Critising all you see
Back chat back chat
Analysing what I say
And you always get your way
Wake up stand up and drag yourself on out
Get down get ready
Scream and shout
Back off be cool
And learn to change your ways
Back chat back chat
Back chat back chat
Back chat back chat
Back chat back chat
Back chat back chat
Back chat back chat
Back chat back chat
Back chat back chat
Back chat back chat
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cat On Hat
I would not wear my old spats
so long as I had cat on hat,
We'd step in puddles water splat
but high and dry is cat on hat,
Piñata, piñata chant brats with bats
but safe from reach is cat on hat,
In winter warm my hat hair mat
love is a cosy cat on hat,
On windy days the hat sits pat
anchored by the cat on hat,
Geriatric romance is never flat
with a wing fur ball cat on hat,
The older ladies stop to chat
but always to the cat on hat.
Postscript:
With limited information,
well merely photographic interpretation
I offer the following observation.
Originally from Paris
Then Chicago by car
Ever so mysterious
The old chat nior.
poem by by unknown author
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Wrens And Robins In The Hedge
Wrens and robins in the hedge,
Wrens and robins here and there;
Building, perching, pecking, fluttering,
Everywhere! C
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Caseworker's Tune
Housing Project, Chicago
Where I am now
there are no leas, no
sheep feeding.
There are tenements,
children breeding.
Where I am now
there are no trees, no
wrens lighting.
There are halls far, dark,
an old man peeing.
poem by Donal Mahoney
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Talk More Talk
A master can highlight the phrases,
Sleasy instruments, half talked, half baked ideas...
Dad, you didnt say o.k....
The window was open, outside was a spaceship,
(a master can highlight the phrases) it took off into the sky
Leaving a trail of smoke behind it...
Short of the standard. was it the sun?
What was rehearsal? conventional drum?
Not quite a hundred. less that a ton.
Clearly the time came, the plan had begun.
With talk, more talk. chat, more chat.
Words of a feather are worn in a hat.
Talk, more talk. chat, more chat. Im happy to do it for you...
Developed since earlier days at the school
Cheapest sensations were used as a rule.
Outstanding to memory, major free flow.
Bio-degradable, look out below for...
Talk, more talk, oh I love to hear the gentle sound
Of conversation sprinkled around
A room where I can be at one with you for...
Talk, more talk. chat, more chat,
Words of a feather are worn in a hat.
Talk, more talk. chat, more chat. happy to do it for you...
Im happy to do it for you... Im happy to do it for you,
Im happy to do it, Im happy to do it... Im happy to do it for you.
Digital organ, finishing stretch, instrumentation, analogue gretsch.
Not quite a thousand, lower than that.
Possible bargain for listening at that...
Talk, more talk. chat, more chat.
Words of a feather are worn in a hat.
Talk, more talk. chat, more chat.
Im happy to do it for you...
All you want is a handyman and all you want is quick service.
Because Im a house owner. Im a house owner.
It may be worth something someday.
I hear water going through the pipes.
I dont actually like sitting down music. music is idea.
Talk, more talk. chat, more chat.
Words of a feather are worn in a hat.
Talk, more talk. chat, more chat.
A master can tell, highlight the phrases his words to digress
Grey flannel trousers... grey flannel trousers.
A blazer and grey flannel trousers.
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spring
Birds' love and birds' song
Flying here and there,
Birds' songand birds' love
And you with gold for hair!
Birds' songand birds' love
Passing with the weather,
Men's song and men's love,
To love once and forever.
Men's love and birds' love,
And women's love and men's!
And you my wren with a crown of gold,
You my queen of the wrens!
You the queen of the wrens --
We'll be birds of a feather,
I'll be King of the Queen of the wrens,
And all in a nest together.
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Out of your depth
Look… through the windowpane!
All in a streamline!
Sitting on top of the corporate world roof!
Differing from being on the road!
Chat…chat…chat…chat…chat!
The shape of modern mental is not speaking!
Eighty percent harshly lashed to rags! ’
Throw mind concert of silver sand,
a play of golf on a private jet!
With a tale on classified earth globe,
ambition becomes entirely lawful!
Money does not have colour!
What is of Pirate, fights in Sahara!
Sailing unreasonably through season chats!
poem by Gloria Seseng
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Lonely Days
Woke up this morning early
and switched my computer on.
Messenger came up on the screen
and it showed I was available to chat,
but no one wanted to chat to me.
Several friends were available
and I waited and hoped to see
that one of them might want a chat with me.
Sadly none of them did.
So I sat and played a couple of games
and watched the hours pass slowly away.
Only junk mail came into my inbox,
but no messages from my friends.
It seemed no one wanted to speak to me.
I got on and did some work I had to do
and started to feel forgotten, asking myself
where had all my friends had gone.
Maybe tomorrow or the day after that
someone might remember me and want a chat,
but I am not going to hold my breath on that.
I’ll just have to pick up my pen and write a little more.
26 April 2009
poem by David Harris
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Chat Ananas
Un ananas
L la nage
Revient vers moi
Dans lorage
Mon petit chat sendort
Ananas aux yeux dor
Un ananas
Plein de courage
Dans son sirop
Flotte et nage
Mon petit chat sendort
Ananas aux yeux dor
Ananas - roi
Des gouttires dor
Ananas - chat
Tu tendors
Ananas - roi
De mes rves forts
Ananas - chat
Aux yeux dor
Un ananas
Et davantage
Ne pense qu moi
Quand il nage
Mon petit chat sendort
Ananas aux yeux dor
Ananas - roi
Des gouttires dor
Ananas - chat
Tu tendors
Ananas - roi
De mes rves forts
Ananas - chat
Aux yeux dor
Mon ananas
Chat dtage
L dans mes bras
Rve et nage
Mon petit chat sendort
Ananas aux yeux dor
Mon petit chat sendort
Ananas aux yeux dor
Chat ananas
Bien moi
song performed by by Vanessa Paradis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life In A Glass House
once again im in trouble with my only friend
she is papering the window panes
she is putting on a smile
living in a glass house
once again packed like frozen and battery hens
think of all the sraving millions
dont talk politics and throw stones
your royal highnesses
well of course i'd like to sit around and chat
well of course i'd like to stay and chew the fat
well of course i'd like to sit around and chat
but someones listening in
once again
we are hungry for a lynching
thats a strange mistake to make
you should turn the other cheek
living in a glass house
well of course i'd like to sit around and chat
well of course i'd like to stay and chew the fat
well of course i'd like to sit around and chat
and only only only
there someone listening in.
song performed by by Radiohead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Same Old Song
And the band starts playing
The same old song again
The monks start praying
To the same God again
But He has grown,
He's grown tired
Maybe its time
That he retired
He's grown selfish,
He's grown Greedy
Bless the homeless
And the needy
And the band start playing
The same old song again
The old are still aging
Its new years eve again
But they've grown stupid,
They've grown lazy
They've grown senile,
and gone crazy
They've grown new cancers,
And suffer old ulcers
There are new medicines,
which might be the answer
And the band start playing
The same old song again
And here I am sitting
Back in that same chair again
You were cold,
and you were hearltless
Still you insist
that you are faultless
You are selfish
and you were cruel
How long must you torture
this young fool
And the band start playing
The same old song again
And when it ends
I press rewind again
I am drunk, and feel so sleepy
And in this room I'm feeling creepy
Maybe we sat here too long
Maybe I should stop listening
To our Old Song
poem by Niroda Abboud
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Taylor's song
For joys the hours of earth bestow
With sorrow thou must pay.
Though many follow close, yet know,
They're loaned but for a day.
With sighing in thy laughter's stead
Shall come a time of grief,
The load of usury bow thy head,
With loss of thy belief.
Mary Anne, Mary Anne,
Mary Anne, Mary Anne,
Hadst thou not smiled upon me, thou,
I were not weeping now.
May God help him who never can
Give only half his soul;
The time comes surely for that man
To take the sorrow whole.
May God help him who was so glad,
That he cannot forget,
Help him who lost the all he had,
But not his reason yet.
Mary Anne, Mary Anne,
Mary Anne, Mary Anne,
The flowers that my life had grown,
Died out when thou went gone.
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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Have You Seen Me
Have you seen me I just might be your little baby?
Have you seen me I'm lookin' at you with grown up eyes?
Every milk carton and highway billboard sign says maybe.
Have you seen me or have you only seen my disguise?
I had a fight with mama and she said she couldn't stand me.
I had a fight with papa and he really likes to swing his fist.
I'm sick and tired of all those stupid rules they hand me.
They try to make me feel I have no right to exist.
Have you seen me, well I've seen you.
I've seen what the grown ups do.
I've seen I can do that too.
Have you seen me?
Well I'm older now than I was the day I vanished.
You might not even know me if you saw me passin' by.
Others take your place in the dark world of the banished.
On vicious streets where no one hears me cry.
Well you can't run, you can't hide
turn your face, walk inside.
Can't close your doors, because I'm yours.
Have you seen me?
Well I'm fighting in Nicaragua, I'm fighting in Afghanistan.
In Israel I wear a gun, in Palestine a rock is in my hand.
In Africa you see me starve, in America they just throw me away.
But I'm making history that other kids will read about some day
Have you seen me, well I've seen you.
I've seen what the grown ups do.
I've seen I can do that too.
Have you seen me?
Have you seen me?
Have you seen me?
Have you seen me?
song performed by by Don McLean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chicago Sestina
I am surprised by the streets of Chicago
when the palm of winter grips them with snow
as if to forgive the city’s mistakes
and give it a canvas that’s new, white, and clean–
its fingers, the branches on all of the trees
kneading the air that blows in from the lake.
I’ve never lived next to the pulse of the lake
(until I set foot down the side of Chicago)
breathing in through the streets and out through the trees
welcoming the cool of the wet, numbing snow.
It lets my mind slip into thinking it’s clean
as if to personally forgive my mistakes.
“But what have you done to forgive your mistakes? ”
Did I ask this? Or is that the voice of the lake?
Some days, not even does it appear clean,
worn down from its tall standing neighbor, Chicago.
It scrapes at the sky, asking it for more snow
to stick to and freeze the trunks of the trees.
If I were a branch on one of these trees
incapable of making a single mistake,
I’d grab at the sky as it shook out the snow
and grow my roots thick till they tasted the lake.
But I wouldn’t bend to the force of Chicago
that’s constantly keeping me from being clean.
And what does it mean to try to be clean?
I don’t understand the stillness of the trees
when they’re being attacked by the size of Chicago
as if to glorify the city’s mistakes
that glisten like stars at night on the lake
before it all froze and was covered with snow.
Ah! To imagine how long there’s been snow.
How can something this old still feel so clean
and dance through the wind that swoops in from the lake?
Is it the kneading by the spiny branches on trees
trusting that there will be no more mistakes
that leaves these the only pure thing in Chicago?
Here comes the snow that seeks out the trees
Am I now clean? Where are my mistakes?
Chicago belongs where it lay with the lake.
poem by Brian Maloney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Simple Pleasure
When the dinner was ready, when I was five,
We sat on the mat in the Hall, half awake,
Varieties of food prepared, served and fed,
The daddies were at the center to watch,
We couldn't laugh and chat while eating,
We shouldn't spill the food on the ground,
We have had unwritten rules,
That has to be strictly obeyed,
Men and the children are in the first list,
Then the women of the house eat and taste,
What they cook, there is a pleasure,
In serving the food to the people we love,
Spoon after spoon, ladle after ladle,
Our love is measured many times,
Many thousand times in our dining halls,
Sometimes we feed our grown up children,
Out of the same bowl, for which,
The women of the houses are mocked,
Simple pleasures such as these,
In life make the living meaningful.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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My Time In Exile
Used to worry for each other
No ones bothered like before
We sleep with each others friends
Sneak around, fall apart
And come back for more
We sit around drinking tables
Stabalized and keeping score
But my mind is somewhere out the door
Oh, we have grown
Maybe I've overstayed a while
In my time in exile
Oh, time has flown
And the only thing I've learned
I want a life now of my own
We go to clubs
The songs are old
The evening's blown
We go our ways
And take taxi's home
We talk of sunday outings
And medicate to fight the doubting
But we know
We'll always be
Alone
We have grown
I've overstayed a while
In my time in exile
Oh, time has flown
And the only thing I've learned
I want a life now of my own
Of my own
Well that's my years spent in exile
Second guessed and dressed up in tatters
My birth feet didn't take this path
And I'm still looking for a life that matters
More than chit-chat we listen to the streets
We're all dead beats
And these old habbits are starting to show through
Sorry I didn't get to know you
Oh, time has slown
I've overstayed a while
In my time in exile
Oh, well we have grown
The one thing that I've learned
I want a life now of my own
Bye bye
To the friends I've known
In my time in exile
song performed by by Third Eye Blind
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hollow Rituals
When they were young,
Adorable and cute.
You announced to me...
That they were 'your' children.
And I respected that.
Now that they've grown older...
Opinionated, loud and abusive.
Lazy and disrespecting.
Impatient with no time to listen.
You do not hold yourself responsible.
Nor accountable for their actions.
In fact you are quick,
To rely on your selective memory.
Remember...
I was there observing,
Those lessons taught to them you did teach.
In a loud judgemental roar...
You sometimes to them preached.
And your self righteous activities...
Are there to be observed in church!
And you tell me you can not remember,
Your own pastor's sermons?
Although you dress impeccably...
As if this is rehearsed!
That is why I find it difficult,
To follow hollow rituals.
Or believe anyone feels...
What they sing in spirituals.
With voices raised in serious praise!
For them it is just a routine...
Without depth and very little meaning.
Like a 'buck' that is passed...
And has lost its worth.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Dieu fait les questions pour que l'enfant réponde
Dieu fait les questions pour que l'enfant réponde.
' Les deux bêtes les plus gracieuses du monde,
Le chat et la souris, se haïssent. Pourquoi ?
Explique-moi cela, Jeanne. ' Non sans effroi
Devant l'énormité de l'ombre et du mystère,
Jeanne se mit à rire. ' Eh bien ? - Petit grand-père,
je ne sais pas. jouons. ' Et Jeanne repartit :
' Vois-tu, le chat c'est gros, la souris c'est petit.
- Eh bien ? ' Et Jeanne alors, en se grattant la tête,
Reprit : ' Si la souris était la grosse bête,
À moins que le bon Dieu là-haut ne se fâchât,
Ce serait la souris qui mangerait le chat. '
poem by Victor Hugo
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Inspiration.
There's a wind that sweeps through the day and night,
And like the lightning goes,
But none have heard the sound of its wings,
And none know whither it blows;
But where'er it comes the thoughts of men
Are like clouds together hurled,
As they are carried with mystic speed
Over the crazy world.
We see no waving of leafy boughs,
Nor heave of the purple sea;
When this wind its fiercest blows, the Earth
May be still as the dead men be;
But the spirit feels its fiery breath
And the souls of men are stirr'd,
As o'er the mesmeric lines of life
Is flashed the magic word.
The gale from the Spirit-land blows in,
And they who feel it glow
With an ecstasy and ardour like
The seers of long ago —
The vital and inspiring breath
With which ideas are sown,
Like visioned seeds, in the mystic soil
Where the spirit-flowers are grown!
poem by Robert Crawford
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