Bodacious Dreams
Bodacious dreams
Move through a sieve
Of memories,
Spilling like shards of glass,
Cutting into my soul.
July 27,2007
11: 01 P.M.
poem by Dorothy Holmes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Glass War
Glass war, glass war, glass war, glass war, it's a glass war
Glass war, glass war, it's a glass war
Glass war, glass war
It's a glass war
Cause you can see right through the poisen
It's a glass war
Cause we all know the activeties
It's a glass war
Cause it's made of smoke and mirrors
It's a glass war
It's a glass war
It's a glass war
Cause only poor men are dyin in the
Gas war
Cause we know why it was started
It's an ass war
Cause the president's an asshole
It's an ass war
It's a glass war
It's a gas war
Cause the starters are all victims of the
Glass war
The slogan men were starters of the
Last war
Now the southern men are starters of the
Glass war
It's a Glass War
It's a Glass war
And the shards are gunna start another glass war
And the shards are gunna start another glass war
And the shards are gunna start another glass war
And the shards are gunna start another glass war
And the shards are gunna start another glass war
It's a glass war
It's a glass war
song performed by by NOFX
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ballad Of Bodacious
Bodacious am a whole lotta' bull
over nineteen hundred pounds.
He's born in Galry, Oklahoma
and he's the baddest sonsabitch around
if a Burma bull ever were a super star
then Bodacious just might be.
He's a cream colored, beefy brawn,
full-fledged, four footed bovine celebrity.
Who's gonna ride Bodacious?
Who's gonna tame him down?
Look out for Bodacious, he's bound to hold his ground.
Here comes Bodacious, ya'll just step aside.
Big and bad Bodacious takes a toll from those who ride.
Young Bo met a man named Tuff Hedeman
at the start of his buckin' spree
and Tuff became one of the few to make the whistle
back in Nineteen Ninety Three.
Tuff tried to ride Bo again at the finals
in Nineteen Ninety Five.
Bodacious had got a little older and wiser
Tuff barely came out alive.
song performed by by Primus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Getting Bodacious and Less Discreet
The guys lay in secret with misters.
Laying discreeted doing dirty deeds.
Some downlow on hands and knees,
And all bugged out with plugged up mouths.
The guys lay in secret with misters.
None denying they've come out of the closet.
Few denying they now cruise on the streets.
The guys lay in secret with misters.
Some are married and some are not.
Some just started and they like it a lot.
The guys lay in secret with misters.
It may be caused by the economy.
With some feeling weakened,
With effeminate needs.
And some feeling weakened,
With a need to please.
The guys lay in secret with misters.
None denying they've come out of the closet.
Few denying they now cruise on the streets.
The guys lay in secret with misters.
Some are married and some are not.
Some just started and they like it a lot.
The guys lay in secret with misters.
Laying discreeted doing dirty deeds.
Some downlow on hands and knees,
And all bugged out with plugged up mouths.
You know the guys lay in secret with misters.
And getting bodacious and less discreet.
Getting bodacious and less discreet.
You know the guys lay in secret with misters.
And getting bodacious and less discreet.
Getting bodacious and less discreet.
You know the guys lay in secret with misters.
And getting bodacious and less discreet.
Getting bodacious and less discreet.
You know the guys lay in secret with misters.
And getting bodacious and less discreet.
Getting bodacious and less discreet.
You know the guys lay in secret with misters.
And getting bodacious and less discreet.
Getting bodacious and less discreet.
And getting bodacious and less discreet.
Getting bodacious and less discreet.
They're getting bodacious and less discreet.
Getting bodacious and less discreet.
The guys lay in secret with misters.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Every Need In Me
I've got to move...
From memories,
Haunting...
Every need in me!
I've got to move.
I've got to move...
From shadows,
And dark places.
I've got to move...
From despairing melodies,
That keep me in such solitude...
And,
Deep dark gloomy moods!
I've got to move.
I've got to move...
To open all closed windows.
And,
I've got to move...
More than two steps away from doors.
Closed within I've been.
And I've got to...
Leave behind memories,
Haunting...
Every need in me!
I've got to move.
I've got to move...
From memories,
Haunting...
Every need in me!
I've got to move.
I've got to move...
From memories,
Haunting...
Every need in me!
I've got to move.
I've got to move...
From memories,
Haunting...
Every need in me.
I've got to move.
I've got to move.
I've got to move...
From memories,
Haunting...
Every need in me.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pulling Out The Shards
Pulling Out The Shards
Date: May 23,2011
I covet his sweet hungry lips
Cling fast to the fire
I can't forsake the memories
The need of him…desire
I yearn to revel in the heat
Embrace it long and tight
I can't put out the eager flames
That warm me through the night
I know it's wrong to hanker on
In envy of such prize
But I can't train my rambling heart
Or tame my wandering eye
I hear him on the whispering winds
And taste him in the rain
He fulfills such simple joys
A need…I can't explain
I'll never touch his shielded soul
My heart deterred no less
For midnight dreams keep burning bright
And never let it rest
Still I go, in blinding snow
And lay down with the knife
To cut myself, time and again
Forever clinging tight
Fate has dealt a losing hand
But still I hold it fast
And stand each day in bitter rain
That falls like broken glass
I rise each morn, in spite of pain
In search of his regard
And end each day, the same old way
Still pulling out the shards
*********************************************
Copyright © 2011 Leria Hawkins, All Rights Reserved
poem by Leria Hawkins
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Shattered
It was in the virgin snow
Of many a winter's past
Where memory grew some wings
It was in the form of Snow Angels**
And the winter airs crisp sting
It was a total recall of sorts
Of a broken friendships shards
It cut like glass, as it came to pass
But the snow still covers the yard
It never melted from an apology
As none ever came to pass
And so the snow remains
Along with the pain
And the shards are still sharp as glass
poem by Theodora Onken
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In Their Haste
I look out at the city
and what do I see,
thousands of feet going nowhere.
Every one of them has a dream,
but most will be unrealised,
in their haste to get where they are going.
Their dreams are wasted there.
They forget about the goals
that they wanted to achieve
in their haste to go nowhere.
Maybe if they stopped
every now and then,
examine what they want to do,
they might get their dreams in the end.
(7 July 2007)
poem by David Harris
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Tropical Recollection
The crashing of the glass
Shards of memory scattered throughout
Whilst ominous gusts of terror besiege,
Convincing the upends have come
Bellowing into disabled blue eyes,
Blurred and blinded through battles of time
The dark deep dread creeps in
Shards of memory scattered throughout
Thoughts cloud in withdrawal
A relinquishing storm of all form, all peril
Void as a dream, void of sanity
Shards of memory scattered throughout
Cutting It Fine
The door swings open but you wont go it
You hate the movie that you havent seen
You couldnt see what I have in mind
I see you laughing but youre
Cutting it, cutting it fine
You never should have done those things to me
Theres one thread left tween you and history
And while our temperature is rising high
Im warning you that you are
Cutting it, cutting it fine
Cutting it, cutting it fine...
You gambled all on one important game
Now take the debt and dont complain
Your game was up, I saw it all the time
I saw that vice, girl, youre
Cutting it, cutting it fine
Your sole advisor watch out for yourself
You never listen to anyone else
You were the one who ignored the signs
Dancing on a fine line
Cutting it, cutting it fine
Cutting it, cutting it fine...
song performed by by Asia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Butterfly Thoughts
As fragile as a butterfly wing
as swiftly blown away
my memories take flight at times,
sail to some distant bay
Yet, now and then they gently light
within my wooly head
and with a powdered fluttering
they bring me peace, instead
Sweet memories bring only joy
Sad one bring only pain
My butterfly thoughts
don't tie me in knots,
they're here..then they're gone again.
So if my mind seems far away,
while yours is focused on me
don't make it a moment that spoils your whole day
let go..set your butterflies free
For I remember Love
and it may feed and fuel my soul.
I feel it in a smiling face,
a caring word, a warm embrace;
a hand in mine, showing me the way,
these are the memories of each new day.
And even if that memory
should simply flutter by..
I'll catch it..maybe..later,
when it comes by Butterfly.
Love has many faces
Love is many things
It may flutter by...on a Butterfly
or come on Fairy wings
(July,2007)
poem by Brenda Firth
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Pride Aside on Love
Innocence and pride make two
as pride and love - forget-me-not -
from fever cools as through and through
fond memories few keep. Fools blot
their copy books, mock Cupid's coo
as selfishness unravels knot,
hands tied dis paired, what should be true.
When once fidelity's bolt's shot
some lock out souvenirs, fond cue
forget - from pseudo sage to sot -
invent excuses spent, unglue.
False feelings [b]ring crime Time will rot.
Yet Cupid's dart should hearts entwine
in happiness come rain or shine.
for previous version 31 July 2007 see below
Innocence and pride make two
as pride and love, - forget-me-not
from fever cools as through and through
fond memories few keep, sots blot
their copy books, unravel knot
hands tied when paired, once bolt is shot
block out souvenirs, fond cue
forget - from pseudo sage to sot -
label feelings they've forgot
that once they thought by heart they knew.
(27 January 2007 revised 31 July 2007 and 4 February 2012)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Passion governs
My mother dropped the glass.
My wife dropped the glass.
My servant dropped the glass
My child dropped the glass.
My sweetheart dropped the glass
I dropped the glass.
My reactions are different.
The depth of passion governs.
01.09.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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What Children Worry About
Mommy
Mommy, mommy
what’s going on in the world today?
Mommy am I going to be OK?
I heard some kids were wearing bombs
and blowing people up..
Mommy their world is very far away.
They can’t come here, right mommy?
Am I going to be OK.
Written: July 17,2007
Daddy
Daddy, daddy
I asked mommy some questions yesterday,
and tears were in her eyes.
She’s really scared daddy,
I know the reason why.
The kids with bombs,
might be here in our schools.
They won’t listen to the rules.
Mommy is really scared that one day,
you’ll both have no choice but to send me away
Written: July 17,2007
Mommy, Daddy
Mommy, Daddy, there’s no reason to fear
I figured it out late last night.
I said the words for God to hear.
I know He knows all things
and will do what’s right,
sooo… we say the words for God to hear,
everyday and every night.
Guess what Mommy, Daddy
everything will be alright.
Mommy, why are you still crying? ? ?
Written: July 17,2007
poem by Melvina Germain
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Memories Won't Go Away
The music,
Won't drown,
Those memories.
Running,
Won't drown,
Those memories.
Playing piano,
Won't drown,
Those memories.
Cutting,
Won't drown,
Those memories.
Telling someone about them,
Won't drown,
Those memories.
Killing you,
Won't drown,
Those memories.
Even dying,
Won't drown,
Those memories.
And I wonder,
Why.
poem by Dragon Crenshaw
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Shards Of Dreams
shards of dreams
carefully placed in
a silver container
quick, some quickfix, please!
some shards
scattered on the shore
walk along,
they prick and cause bleeding
a trail on the damp sands
the waves
hit and break
at the shore...
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Memories Good, Sad and Bad
Some memories are good,
some memories are sad;
some memories are bad,
almost nightmarish in fact.
The good ones make you smile,
the sad ones make you cry,
and the bad ones make you frightened.
However, memories are memories
no matter what they are.
They are incidents of your past,
some of which you wish
never happened at all.
They are the memories
you try so hard to forget.
Unfortunately, the brain
cannot distinguish from good, sad and bad,
and the memories it throws up
are not always, what you want.
21 November 2007
poem by David Harris
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My Heart Is In July
shifting away from June's bud
to leave dandelions scattered in the yard
this dawn of July
marks the end of a lie
a lie from past season
for a strong reason
in July
robin will make herself shy
and cover her reddish breast
with her celestial hued crest
then flap her wings to fly
close against the sky
i want to kiss July
and make July
lasting forever
in beauty but not ephemeral
i will preserve July
on my canvas and with magic brush
so that she will be enthralled and blush
i will paint July
with charming colour
so that she will be captured in delight
and her soul enraptured
because my heart is in July.
poem by Niji Chrys
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Have It All
You're my size I need to try you on
Someone in between the right and wrong
Through everything you kept your wings apart
Through everything you scared the sinners
And when I've had enough
She drains me
When I'm empty
She helps herself
She takes it all
In too deep
She's spilling over me
In too deep
She's spilling over me
Don't wanna hear
Running through this maze you hold me in
Searching in a daze to find the out
Through everything you left your wings apart
I'm everything I'm anyone you want
And when I've had enough
She drains me
When I'm empty
She helps herself
She takes it all
In too deep
She's spilling over me
In too deep
She's spilling over me
Don't wanna hear
I'm everything you're everything I'm not
I'm anything I'm anyone you want
She drains me
When I'm empty
She helps herself
She takes it all
In too deep
She's spilling over me
In too deep
She's spilling over me
In too deep
She's spilling over me
In too deep
She's spilling over me
song performed by by Foo Fighters from One By One
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Memorys Of The Past
Memories of the past affected me
In different ways
How I am what I do
Is who I really am
The pain still lives on
In my memories
In my soul
But to be a better human being
I need to forgive the man
That buried my soul
I grew up being afraid
I grew up being alone
Not really knowing
Just how great one can be
We all have dreams
Of grandness
But often obstacles
Block our dreams
I know it will be
Hard for me
To forgive straight from the heart
But the memories of pain
Makes it hard for me to say
I forgive you from my heart
poem by Kaila George
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Mementoes That We Take
It is a sad time
when we have to
move house or job.
We often wish
we could take a memento
of our stay there,
but the mementoes that we take
are in our memories,
of times we spent there.
The faces that we knew
who would soon
be faces of the past.
We take with us the laughter
and the smiles that came along the way
through the years of our stay.
Tomorrow brings a new start
of faces fresh and new.
More memories
we will have to store.
Therefore, the cycle will go on
wherever we go from there.
27 June 2007
poem by David Harris
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