Lost: (
In a terrible fog i once lost my way,
Where i had wandered i could not say
I found a signpost by a fence,
But i could not read it, the fog was so dense,
Slowly but surely, frightened to roam,
I climbed up the post for my nearest way home,
Striking a match i turned cold and faint,
These were the words on it, 'Mind The Wet Paint.'
poem by Nadine Hugecova
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
My Nails Match My Heart
my nails match my heart
'Lost Love' that's what its called
as pal as my nails my heart is
if only i could paint my heart
as easily as i paint my nails
red would be a nice color for the heart
does red match with how it feel
No! 'Lost Love' does
have i ever found love that paints my heart red
will i ever find that love that will slowly paint it
with tender strokes
so perfectly that nothing will ever ruin it
for now 'Lost Love' is the color it will stay
and tomorrow will hopefully be a new day
my nails match my heart
poem by Pilar Guethon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Fence
I built the fence on a cold grey hill
With bar and shovel and axe and maul
And quite a measure of toil and will,
For I needed a paddock to clear and till,
So I dug the holes by the bloodwoods tall
And I felled the ones that grew on the line
And cut them into a handy length
That would serve the purpose of my design,
For each a link in the fence's spine,
And each would add to the fence its strength.
Each post I barked, and I sapped and stood
In a line as straight as a rifle shot,
And the sap ran red from the honest wood
Of the native gum that was sound and good
And with age would harden and never rot,
Then the wire, I strung, and I strained it tight,
And each post I fixed to the jagged wire,
So my fence was finished by fall of night
When my gaze was drawn to a distant light
And I turned for the warmth of home and fire.
© Dennis N. O'Brien,2011 - 2012
poem by Dennis N. O'Brien
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
On The Lam
‘I'm going away today, ' he said,
‘I'm going away for good! '
We looked at his suitcase, neatly packed,
‘We don't really think you should! '
‘It doesn't matter a fig to me
Whatever you want me to,
I said that I'm going away, I did,
And that's what I'm going to do.'
The wife looked beat, admitted defeat,
And stalked back into the house,
While I sat down on the garden wall
And stomped on the odd wood louse.
‘So where do you think you'll spend the night
When it comes to the end of the day,
When the Moon comes up and the lights go out
And the Wolves begin to bay? '
He sulked, ‘I'll be on a pirate ship,
With Long John What's-is-name,
I'll sit right up in the Crows Nest
Spotting the ships on the Spanish Main.'
‘But what if a cannonball takes your leg
And chops it off at the knee,
They've got no doctors on pirate ships
Out in that terrible sea.'
‘Well, maybe I won't, ' he faltered,
Maybe I'll go to the Hemlock Inn,
And sup on the stuff that pirates sup
And get me a mug of gin! '
‘I think it's rum that you're thinking of,
And that's some terrible stuff,
It causes your head to twirl and spin
‘Til your ears come falling off.'
‘I'll ride on a double-decker bus,
I'll do what I want to do,
Nothing you say will change my mind
I'm not going to live with you! '
‘That's sad, I'll just have to eat them all,
Those humbugs up in the jar,
And the fairy cakes that your mother makes
While I'm looking up at the stars.'
‘That's it, I'm going away, ' he said,
‘I'm taking off on the Lam.'
‘Be careful the police don't pick you up,
They turn little boys to jam! '
He headed off to the first Lamp Post,
Then stopped, and swivelled to see,
If I was following with my eyes,
But I'd turned my gaze to a tree.
He took another few faltering steps,
Then turned and wandered back home,
‘I thought I'd stay for the fairy cakes,
I'm not quite ready to roam.'
The dog came out and he bounded up
And they played around on the lawn,
I called out, ‘Mother, the pirate's back,
His ship was lost in a storm! '
30 November 2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Operetta
The black signpost stands in silhouette with white letters & numerals.
Show the distances to certain places in miles/kilometers.
A Ragamuffin stood there motionless
Who's never been to a school try to read the details?
The arms show the direction to heaven & hell and some other places.
Heaven and hell exist in the same way.
But heaven is far beyond the hell.
This nondescript man cannot understand anything.
And he turned the loose signpost and vanished.
The ongoing long-suffering pilgrims (with their opera glasses)
Who were released from the open-prison?
And they were heading towards the signpost!
To the poetess Susie.Gharib
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Straying Sheep
How many sheep are straying
Lost from the Savior's fold!
Upon the lonely mountain, They shiver with the cold:
Within the tangled thickets,
Where poison vines do creep,
And over rocky ledges
Still roam the poor lost sheep.
O come, let us go and find them!
In the paths of death they roam.
At the close of the day 'twill be sweet to say:
"I have brought some lost one home."
O who will go to find them?
Who, for the Savior's sake,
Will search with tireless patience
Through brier and through brake
Unheeding thirst or hunger,
Who still from day to day,
Will seek, as for treasure,
The sheep that go astray?
O come, let us go and find them!
In the paths of death they roam.
At the close of the day 'twill be sweet to say:
"I have brought some lost one home."
Say, will you seek to find them?
From pleasant bow'rs of ease
Will you go forth determined
To find the least of these?
For still the Savior calls them,
And looks across the wold,
And still He holds wide open
The door into His fold.
O come, let us go and find them!
In the paths of death they roam.
At the close of the day 'twill be sweet to say:
"I have brought some lost one home."
How sweet 'twound be at evening
If you and I could say,
"Good Shepherd we've been seeking
The sheep that went astray!
Heartsore and faint with hunger,
We heard them making moan,
And lo! we come at nightfall,
And bear them safely home."
O come, let us go and find them!
In the paths of death they roam.
At the close of the day 'twill be sweet to say:
"I have brought some lost one home."
poem by Robert Wadsworth Lowry
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
We Tried To Paint A Fire In The Snow
Red and orange, yellow
Maybe a touch of blue
Paint the sky with fire
And the snow with a barren hue
Can we catch these shadows with our hands
Or will the dusk refuse to play our game
I think the streetlamps want to breathe awhile
Before we fit them with a starry frame
The people pass and nod their vacant eyes
We paint them with a dash of loneliness
The keys for home sit anchored in their pockets
And all the words are written on their breath
The snow is whiter than the stone I found
That summer day in august at the shore
We said it looked just like a tiny moon
You held it till the daylight closed its door
But now the snow is growing cold as dawn
And all its left is pictures we could paint
That show two lovers with a broken brush
You paint a sky that I describe as faint
Red and orange, yellow
Maybe a touch of blue
I’ve painted love with fire
And the snow with a barren hue
poem by Ben Paynter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Paint Me Down
Paint me down
Paint me down
Paint me down
Im walking into studio
Consider strange appeal
Paint me in the home
Im brushing up on sketchbook
Designs for love unreal
Paint me in the home
Oil and skin youll need to buy it
Consider what I mean
She sinks beneath thr moving pictures
Prepare the brush for me
Im craving with this need
Paint me down
Paint me down
Paint me down
Im soaking up the surface
Conceaiving new idea
Paint me in the home
Shes oiling up her subject
But all still life is here
Paint me in the home
All the boys with framed dimension
A cover up on lust
Hell take his pain and paint it over
Prepare the brush for me
Im craving with this need
Paint me down
Paint me down
Paint me down
song performed by by Spandau Ballet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I seem to roam
And still I seem to roam.
With my way lost.
And the path not on track.
So still I continue to roam.
I've lost the way back home.
My hart is heavy.
My heart is all but very sad.
My head is pounding.
But my hart is broken.
It will not heal.
Becuase I am left to roam.
All I do is roam.
Fighting coping on my own.
I've never felt so alone.
As I still continue to roam.
Facing each day as it comes.
Wishing it was the last.
I still continue to roam.
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
On the Boundary
I Love the ancient boundary-fence,
That mouldering chock-and-log.
When I go ride the boundary
I let the old horse jog
And take his pleasure in and out
Where the sandalwood grows dense,
And tender pines clasp hands across
The log that tops the fence.
’Tis pleasant on the boundary-fence,
These sultry summer days;
A mile away, outside the scrub,
The plain is all ablaze,
The sheep are panting on the camps,
The heat is so intense;
But here the shade is cool and sweet
Along the boundary-fence.
I love to loaf along the fence,
So does my collie dog,
He often finds a spotted cat
Hid in a hollow log;
He’s very near as old as I
And ought to have more sense,
I’ve hammered him so many times
Along the boundary-fence.
My mother says that boundary fence
Must surely be bewitched;
The old man says that through that fence
The neighbours are enriched;
It’s always down, and through the gaps
Our stock all get them hence,
I takes me half my time to watch
The doings of that fence.
But should you seek the reason
You won’t travel very far,
’Tis there a mile away among
The murmuring Belar:
The Jones’s block joins on to ours,
And so, in consequence,
It’s part of Polly’s work to ride
Their side the boundary-fence.
poem by Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Little Match Girl
It was biting cold, and the falling snow,
Which filled a poor little match girl's heart with woe,
Who was bareheaded and barefooted, as she went along the street,
Crying, "Who'll buy my matches? for I want pennies to buy some meat!"
When she left home she had slippers on;
But, alas! poor child, now they were gone.
For she lost both of them while hurrying across the street,
Out of the way of two carriages which were near by her feet.
So the little girl went on, while the snow fell thick and fast;
And the child's heart felt cold and downcast,
For nobody had bought any matchea that day,
Which filled her little mind with grief and dismay.
Alas! she was hungry and shivering with cold;
So in a corner between two houses she made bold
To take shelter from the violent storm.
Poor little waif! wishing to herself she'd never been born.
And she grew colder and colder, and feared to go home
For fear of her father beating her; and she felt woe-begone
Because she could carry home no pennies to buy bread,
And to go home without pennies she was in dread.
The large flakes of snow covered her ringlets of fair hair;
While the passers-by for her had no care,
As they hurried along to their homes at a quick pace,
While the cold wind blew in the match girl's face.
As night wore on her hands were numb with cold,
And no longer her strength could her uphold,
When an idea into her little head came:
She'd strike a match and warm her hands at the flame.
And she lighted the match, and it burned brightly,
And it helped to fill her heart with glee;
And she thought she was sitting at a stove very grand;
But, alas! she was found dead, with a match in her hand!
Her body was found half-covered with snow,
And as the people gazed thereon their hearts were full of woe;
And many present let fall a burning tear
Because she was found dead on the last night of the year,
In that mighty city of London, wherein is plenty of gold -
But, alas! their charity towards street waifs is rather cold.
But I hope the match girl's in Heaven, beside her Saviour dear,
A bright reward for all the hardships she suffered here.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Have Found Me A Home
By: jimmy buffett
1973
The days drift by
They dont have names
None of the streets here look the same
And therere so many quiet places
And smilin eyes match the smilin faces
Chorus:
And I have found me a home
I have found me a home
You can have the rest of everything I own
cause I have found me a home
My ol red bike
Gets me around
To the bars and the beaches of my town
There arent many reasons I would leave
cause I have found me some peace
And the ladies arent demandin here
Theyll never ask too much
When youre comin off a cold love
Thats sure a nice warm touch
Chorus:
Yes I have found me a home
I have found me a home
You can have the rest of everything I own
cause I have found me a home
And the days drift by
They dont have names
And none of the streets here look the same
There arent many reasons I would leave
cause I have found me some peace
Yes I have found me a home
I have found me a home
You can have the rest of everything I own
cause I have found me a home
Yes I have found me a home
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Roamer's Mayor
Still as stone
And cold as I
As far as home
And as alive
White walls, bed
Scream to be free
You paint them red
As red as me
Did I find you here
Or was I told?
Finds are just as fair
When there's concrete in the gold
Striking riches
Or the dirt and the mold
But a heart is a heart
No matter how cold
poem by L'Angley S Delmonte
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Reminded
Beneath my window twilight made
Familiar mysteries of shade.
Faint voices from the darkening down
Were calling vaguely to the town.
Intent upon a low, far gleam
That burned upon the world's extreme,
I sat, with short reprieve from grief,
And turned the volume, leaf by leaf,
Wherein a hand, long dead, had wrought
A million miracles of thought.
My fingers carelessly unclung
The lettered pages, and among
Them wandered witless, nor divined
The wealth in which, poor fools, they mined.
The soul that should have led their quest
Was dreaming in the level west,
Where a tall tower, stark and still,
Uplifted on a distant hill,
Stood lone and passionless to claim
Its guardian star's returning flame.
I know not how my dream was broke,
But suddenly my spirit woke
Filled with a foolish fear to look
Upon the hand that clove the book,
Significantly pointing; next
I bent attentive to the text,
And read-and as I read grew old-
The mindless words: 'Poor Tom's a-cold!'
Ah me! to what a subtle touch
The brimming cup resigns its clutch
Upon the wine. Dear God, is 't writ
That hearts their overburden bear
Of bitterness though thou permit
The pranks of Chance, alurk in nooks,
And striking coward blows from books,
And dead hands reaching everywhere?
poem by Ambrose Bierce
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dinosaurs In The Suburbs
Go to Crystal Palace Park in the dead of night,
And you are sure to be given a very big fright.
The dinosaurs, which you see there in the Park,
Suddenly all spring to life when it grows dark.
They stand stock still as statues during the day,
But, at night, they all chorus ‘Hip-hip- hooray! '
Around the Palace Park, the dinosaurs roam:
Looking for food, every inch they will comb.
They have resided at the Park for many a year;
Faint hearted folk will not dare venture near.
Some of the local neighbours, who live nearby
Have reported hearing the odd frightened cry.
The statues seem to cause a slight feeling of unease;
On seeing them, some folk simply stop and freeze.
During the day, the dinosaurs will do you no harm;
Some people think they even behold a slight charm.
As soon as the daylight begins to fail,
Frightened little children begin to wail.
They know that the dinosaurs will come alive,
So, through the Park gates, they quickly dive.
When the Keeper locks up the gates at night,
He makes sure that they are locked really tight:
He doesn't want the dinosaurs running around,
Scaring the neighbours and terrorizing the town.
Of course, the dinosaurs could easily break out,
But, their cover would be blown, without a doubt.
So they stay well within the Park's perimeter fence,
Shrouded by the vegetation, which grows so dense.
To humans, hungry dinosaurs can be a big threat,
But, luckily, no one has ever been eaten as yet.
So, if you're ever nearby, and you hear a loud roar,
Chances are it will be one of the local dinosaurs!
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Perfectionist
I know what I am
A perfectionist
I maul over this
I maul over that
Thinking is this perfect
Or is that right
Everything must be in its right place
If a table is crocked
Well to me anyway
Ill straighten up everyday
If my clothes don't match
I walk in horror and shame
Thinking did I really wear that
If I paint on a isle
And people they say
It looks wonderful
No more should you paint
I look at them strange
Are you mad cant you see?
There's an unbalance
That needs to be fixed
Even in poetry
It takes me awhile
To read what I write everyday
If not ok in my eyes
Ill look for the right words
The right rhythms
Embellishing words as we speak
Shaking my head
Blushing just a bit
Yes I am a perfectionist
poem by Kaila George
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When You Come Home
All will be right when you come home, dear lad,
But oh, 'tis long of coming that you are!
Everything's wrong with all the world and sad;
There are so many hurt in this long war,
So many missing, who will never come,
Lying out in the rain and in the cold.
I shall forget it all when you come home,
I shall forget the lonesome things they told.
There's something, something sad, that troubles me.
Beats like the rain upon my frightened heart;
A tale about a girl, the thing might be,
Whispered in corners, secret and apart
How he was killed and how she never knew
Because God put a small cloud on her mind,
And how she waited the black winters through
And the wet summers; surely God was kind!
I took a daisy from the garden-bed
And plucked the petals, one by one, to tell
When I and my true lover should be wed,
This year: Next year: Never: the petals fell
And stopped at Never. But it could not guess,
The foolish daisy, what true love I had.
I turned from daisies and I plucked heartsease
To rest my heart on and be safe and glad.
Everything's wrong, Love, since you went away,
Such a queer world when all the boys are gone,
And there is no one left but old and grey,
Women and children, frightened and alone.
Sometimes the tale is crying at my heart
Of that poor girl. Maybe 'twas but a dream.
When you come home the shadows will depart,
The lonesome dreams die off in morning gleam.
poem by Katharine Tynan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Slowly And Surely
slowly but surely
and surely is slow is
and slowly is surely is
a snail climbing its way
up riding upon the merits
of its saliva
slowly, slowly,
winning whining
whining winning
till all of them drop
dead and slowly but surely
does the snail take its pace
as the rabbit
watches upon the tease
of sleep
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In a Roam Zone
When in a roam zone,
Where does one go...
After tempers flair?
And what is left staring,
Are the facts.
In undeniable contradiction...
Of those truths carried,
Historically on one's back!
Where does one roam,
When this becomes known.
Where does one roam,
When assessments are complete.
And one awakens drooling,
Deluged by deceit one took to a deep sleep.
Where does one then choose to roam?
With a feeling of suspicion even in one's home!
And finding themselves overwhelmed by distrust.
Neighbors once close are now regarded with disgust.
Found hiding in disguises as if they must.
Where does one then roam?
When truth has been expose to leave one to feel alone...
Where does one then go,
Feeling isolated and in a complicated mental state of mind!
Where does one then go...
When feeling alone and in a roam zone to call one's own.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Today... 'My Shepherd
I was so lost when My Shepherd found me
when He came and threw His arms around me.
Deep were the pains He bore as He sought me
for He'd laid down His own life and bought.
Many were the wounds He had borne for me
and a crown of thorns He had worn for me.
For His body was pierced and torn for me.
and He endured hatred and scorn for me.
For He had climbed the hill alone for me
to pay the price and to atone for me.
For this poor lost sheep had wandered away
but Jesus led me back into His way.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box below)
Whereever I May Roam
Wherever I May Roam
...and the road becomes my bride
I have stripped of all but pride
so in her I do confide
and she keeps me satisfied
gives me all I need
...and with dust in throat I crave
only knowledge will I save
to the game you stay a slave
rover wanderer
nomad vagabond
call me what you will
but I'll take my time anywhere
free to speak my mind anywhere
and I'll redefine anywhere
anywhere I may roam
where I lay my head is home
...and the earth becomes my throne
I adapt to the unknown
under wandering stars I've grown
by myself but not alone
I ask no one
...and my ties are severed clean
the less I have the more I gain
off the beaten path I reign
rover wanderer
nomad vagabond
call me what you will
but I'll take my time anywhere
I'm free to speak my mind anywhere
and I'll never mind anywhere
anywhere I may roam
where I lay my head is home
but i'll take my time anywhere
free to speak my mind
and I'll take my find anywhere
anywhere I may roam
where I lay my head is home
carved upon my stone
my body lie, but still I roam
wherever I may roam
song performed by by Metallica
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!