Mulatto Children
How loudly the quietus barks,
Diana: Liquored up, lighting up the woods,
Our four legged body decorated by
Penumbra-
So far away the holocaust lamps of another sea,
These words I use,
Young goddess, one breasted, leaping at the
Form,
Airplanes bowing beneath her:
I see her sometimes as I am coming out of the gym,
Or when I am vacationing onto the
West part of Florida.
Archaeologists are gathering around her like kids
In daycare,
Undressing her splendiferous hip,
Speculating,
Speculating: Luscious bride of all the colors and
Elements,
Sometimes water and sometimes greening wood;
And now the cars are passing, streams of little girls:
What will you have for me today;
I will barter with balloons or bouquet; Or I would
Give it all for free,
If you stepped out of your silly forms, the way the aspens
Gather together in childish sorority;
And your hair is as dark as a lumberjack on his day of
Rest;
Diana: I am a good man, and I am coming into my full form,
And I just need your bosom for a crèche,
Your South-American womb for our beautiful, mulatto children.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
If the world market believed that we were serious about energy independence and we were going to utilize all of our own existing resources, the speculators would stop speculating up they start speculating down as we get our own oil out of the ground.
quote by Herman Cain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Diana
The first time I saw you - was in a magazine
The next time was you was walkin' 'cross my television screen
I knew right there that I had to make you mine
The day that you married him - I nearly lost my mind
Chorus
Diana - What cha doin' with a guy like him
Diana - I'd die for you please let me in
Diana - Can't you see you drive me wild
Diana - I'll bet you're just a reckless child!
So you've got it made;
I've seen you promenade a time or two
He might have lots of dough;
But I know he ain't right for you
Well I've watched you smile n' shakin hands;
When you're doin' your social scene
But you wouldn't have to do that;
If you came and lived with me - oh yeah!
Chorus
Diana - I just can't get you off of my mind
Diana - Why don't ya leave it all behind?
Diana - She's the queen of all my dreams
Diana - Give me a chance - I'll set ya free!
Since I saw that picture of ya;
Nothin' matters - I just wanna love ya;
We can make it you and me;
So come on baby - come on baby
So here's how I see it...
You got one choice - you can get away;
Leave it up to me;
I'll bring the ladder - if you bring your limousine!
You really got a hold on me
Gimme a chance - I'll set you free!
song performed by by Bryan Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Queen in My Homeland
her majesty
is coming she is smiling
white bride is dancing
drink from the vine of heaven
bloody kneels she have
ocean eyes that swallow the seven sea's
evil dark hair like black devil nights of hill
the world is dancing on her voice
every body listen to the opera of queen
her majesty the only star in our sky
she is the only queen
the lovely maiden
but the evil hunter is around
they coming from the west
evil rippers is around
they coming from south
evil liars is around
they coming from east
watch them coming closely to hunt you
to lie to you ripping you
but i am the your loyal warrior
will face them
defending your crown you my lovely princes
poem by Aryabod Siharyvani
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American Dream
I used to see you on every t.v.
Your smiling face looked back at me.
I used to see you on every t.v.
Your smiling face looked back at me.
Then they caught you with the girl next door,
Peoples money piled on the floor,
Accusations that you try to deny,
Revelations and rumors begin to fly.
Now you think about reaching out
Maybe get some help from above.
Now you think about reaching out
Maybe get some help from above.
Reporters crowd around your house.
Going through your garbage like a pack of hounds,
Speculating what they may find out,
It dont matter now, youre all washed up.
You wake up in the middle of the night.
Your sheets are wet and your face is white,
You tried to make a good thing last,
How could something so good, go bad, so fast?
American dream, american dream
American dream, american dream.
Dont know when things went wrong,
Might have been when you were young and strong.
Dont know when things went wrong,
Might have been when you were young and strong.
Reporters crowd around your house.
Going through your garbage like a pack of hounds,
Speculating what they may find out,
It dont matter now, youre all washed up.
Dont know when things went wrong,
Might have been when you were young and strong.
American dream, american dream.
Dont know when things went wrong,
Might have been when you were young and strong.
American dream, american dream.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Street Scene—Little Lonsdale St.
I wish you'd seen that dirty little boy,
Finger at nose,
Peeking and ginking at some girls in rows
Seated on the high window-sills to rest.
One of the girls had hair as bright as corn.
And one was red.
And over their soft forms a glow was shed
From lamps new-lighted in the laundry there.
That boy, beneath them, wheeled a hand-cart full
Of cast-off busts
From sewing rooms. They looked like shells of lusts.
And all the girls around the windows laughed.
poem by Lesbia Harford
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How My Story Goes
Walking out in the roses and the waves
Not knowing where I am,
And you not knowing why you feel the need
To bring your body so near to me
When your eyes are so far away,
Engorging.
And the mountains are filled with evil spirits
While Pedro takes off his close,
And the Christmas trees sleep like starving conquistadors
Fearing that they have been brought too
Far into the wilds of the state of Florida,
Beautiful men so full of turquoise thrills.
Men on roller-skates,
Men slinging the news to girls who live in their mothers
And fathers trailer parks,
Girls who always go out tattooed and runny like liquid
Throws,
Who know the cries of unbowed rebels,
And who sing once they have their Christmas tree decorated
In their tin cans,
And the canals flow so torpidly while two boys
Skip school
Underneath the crenulations where the Florida holies grow,
And the foundling tiger opens its eyes
And seeing the shade through the chirping canopy
Thinks it the pinstripes of its luscious mother,
Superimposed and handsome he closes his eyes
Again and dreams the dreams of a young
And handsome tiger out back behind the rows,
Or at least that is how my story goes.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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Underneath The Clouds
Broken adventures moving against the
Stream:
This is my family,
And these are the few words I know-
And none of it belongs here:
These yards and houses do not belong,
Nor the airplanes leaping over them,
Nor the girls here
Who are shortly to be women: women,
Long-legged,
Bronzed women of a special cast-
They who will know their families like fishing
Leaping
Fast- fast:
Women of the year: women of a single snowflake
Evaporating underneath a single sun:
My words are just for her,
Women- my words are meant to be the flower
That signifies the metamorphosis of
Everything,
And casts its perfumes into the aqueducts of
The beating heart of her truancies,
While she goes out all night long-
This is the staple of my belonging handed out readily
Upon the highway-
A broadside for the busy avenues all headed to
See her being,
As she goes back to school again, as the airplanes
Fall asleep underneath the clouds.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dark Ages
I am coming out of dark ages
And I lived half way through my life
Also I got my hand dirty in the mud a long time ago
I did it and got my tshirt and that job is over
I am coming out of dark ages
Because I spent most of my life in dark ages
And I saw so many dark skies while I went through my life in dark ages
I am coming ou of the dark ages
To help the children in their daily life
By teaching what is right and wrong
Because the children needs to learn what is right and wrong
So they don't became a criminal when they grew up
Because here on earrth are full of criminals already and we have more than What we can handle
I am coming out of the dark ages
To show my love to the children that lives here on the earth with us
I am coming out of the dark ages
Because I want to play with the children everyday here on the earth Because I know that I can make the children happy for once
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Coming Of Happy Tomorrows
COMING OF HAPPY TOMORRWS
Dark clouds decorated by silver lining
Floating across gray skies promising
For all those struggling in shadows
About the coming of happy tomorrows
Colors of the splayed sunlight
In the pouring rain shining bright
For all those wondering at the rainbow
About the comings of happy tomorrows
Barks of the bare oak tree
Showing signs of spirit in free
In the wings of flying sparrows
About the comings of happy tomorrows
Smiles of the blooming flowers of spring
Stirring up emotions making bees sing
For all those hiding in burrows
About the comings of happy tomorrows
Gurgles of the streams in flow
Keeping its ripples as wind blows
Calling out for those in bellows
About the comings of happy tomorrows
Glow of sparks underneath the ashes
Shining like stars making a wish
For those deep in the wallow
About the comings of happy tomorrows
poem by Mittur Ramprasad
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Sonnet 11
is it any wonder i have no words to tell
how my heart yearns in absence of you?
the night revives this constant hell-
no vision replaces dark with bright view,
prefiguring the visitation of your form
in sacred majesty, transfiguring night
in darkened soul to that majesty. in turn,
unformed dark, unchanged by celestial Light
formless dark remains, unilluminated by art.
your timeless form, unsculpted by love's pencil,
lends no body to the unformed in my heart.
no form heart forms new, nor does it chisel.
thus your form, unchiselled in my inner eye,
and your heart, my inner sense can't spy.
poem by Doug Bentley
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Death and Birth
Death leads to birth rather than birth, to death.
Birth is close to death and not vice versa.
Every birth is at the result of a death.
Death to birth, not birth to death, is the path.
The death of clay is the birth of a pot;
The death of the pot is the birth of clay.
Ice melts to water and water forms ice.
In each conversion, occur death and birth.
The death of a night is the birth of a day;
The death of a day is the birth of a night.
New Year means the death of the old year too.
In each transition, takes place death and birth.
The death of a seed is the birth of a plant;
The death of gametes is the birth of an embryo.
Salts die to form cells; cells die to form salts.
In each growth, form death and birth of matter.
The so called death and birth is nothing but
Deaths and births of forms made of matter.
The matter itself does not die to be born
But is converted to different forms.
Elements disappear to form plants.
Plants as food add to the animals’ flesh.
Plants and animals on death liberate
As elements, serving through worms and germs.
When a child is born, there’s no birth of life.
The embryo transforms into a child.
When a man dies, there is no death of life.
The body disintegrates to salts.
Matter, energy and life have no death
They have got one birth since when they’ve been.
They interact and come different stages
In which the pattern is death and birth.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Artemis And I
She is my favorite, goddess so great
She and I are friends, in my mind I create
I will be her companion in her hunting spree
We will chase in the wilds, the woods maybe
We will bathe in a pool, a pool very clear
Where no mortal could see us, no mortal near
But yes if theres one, then let him vanish
For no one is worth to see the beautiful miss
I will help her protect the children, the women
I will help her call out to bring the soothing rain
We will roam in the woods never stop hunting
And together we'll play running, laughing, shouting
I will be by her side when she shines for the earth
We will watch each mother deliver a new birth
If she smiles when the world pays tribute for her name
I will be much happier witnessing her fame
She is Diana the goddess I love
Tough yet gentle, gentle like a dove
She graces the sky with her ladies in waiting
And charms every man who won't stop admiring
Beautiful goddess who appears in the sky
Never fails to inspire every girl who is shy
A lady so charming, charming far or near
Forever I will love her do you hear do you hear.
poem by Naida Supnet
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The Muted Creche
Florida is returning to the way she looked
Just before the sixteenth century,
The conquistadors swimming in their bloody
Bouquets and hang-over hard-ons:
All the lost tribes are showing their faces as
The hybrids of our new species:
Guatemalans and Cubans and Haitians and
Columbians,
Swimming up stream and making love like
A kaleidoscope lost in a
Sweaty, irrational poem: What would be a
Disaster from the white man and his college
Professor,
Except for the fact that these women are beautiful,
And the bring over priced lunch,
All the roundnesses of their body like ripe
Fruit,
Like the clichés of a lunch basket passed between
Business partners;
And they all have exquisite names with three or
More syllables,
Like mermaids or butterflies that have finally settled
And learned how to live forever
And to roller-skate:
Julie is a unicorn, and I buy guava pastries from
Diana for the rest of my life,
And the cicadas sing as they have always proposed
They have,
And the alligators grin because they still remember,
And the old forts settle,
The cars proceeding heedlessly,
While somewhere to the east the waves continue
To eat away at the throat of a cross planted there
By silver crusted men who cannot much longer
Afford to live behind the muted crèche
Of their endangered gated community.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fightin' Fire With Fire
You came here on purpose, in front of me, Diana
To be seen with some other man
Youre wanting me to watch him, enjoy the freedom
Youre letting him take with his hands.
Did you tell or must I tell him, Diana
Does it matter to that kind of man?
Any place he touches or kisses, Diana
Is some place Ive already been.
You know youre fighting fire with fire
Over something that broke us apart
At least I was hiding and trying, Diana
To keep it from breaking your heart.
You mustve been crazy, for taking advantage
Of the fact that you werent around
But she was so soft and pretty
And she made a promise, never to utter a sound.
Can you tell or must I tell you, Diana
Its a heart burning hell that Im in
And any place he touches or kisses, Diana
Id gladly crawl back there again.
You knowyoure fighting fire with fire
Over something that broke us apart
At least I was hiding and trying, Diana
To keep it from breaking your heart...
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Airplanes Coming Indoors
Then there is a womb opened in a new
Holiday,
Bright with her children and blind snow storms:
All of the wolves make a surplus
Around the orchard of her
Little house,
And the snakes hang down from their
Christmas trees,
Tired from their gossiping,
And her father’s car, and her husband’s car
Wait outside—
The day is equally beautiful, and she lays brown-
Eyed with her children
And never has to worry about the airplanes
Coming indoors.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ballade Of The Midnight Forest
Still sing the mocking fairies, as of old,
Beneath the shade of thorn and holly-tree;
The west wind breathes upon them, pure and cold,
And wolves still dread Diana roaming free
In secret woodland with her company.
'Tis thought the peasants' hovels know her rite
When now the wolds are bathed in silver light,
And first the moonrise breaks the dusky grey,
Then down the dells, with blown soft hair and bright,
And through the dim wood Dian threads her way.
With water-weeds twined in their locks of gold
The strange cold forest-fairies dance in glee,
Sylphs over-timorous and over-bold
Haunt the dark hollows where the dwarf may be,
The wild red dwarf, the nixies' enemy;
Then 'mid their mirth, and laughter, and affright,
The sudden Goddess enters, tall and white,
With one long sigh for summers pass'd away;
The swift feet tear the ivy nets outright
And through the dim wood Dian threads her way.
She gleans her silvan trophies; down the wold
She hears the sobbing of the stags that flee
Mixed with the music of the hunting roll'd,
But her delight is all in archery,
And naught of ruth and pity wotteth she
More than her hounds that follow on the flight;
The goddess draws a golden bow of might
And thick she rains the gentle shafts that slay.
She tosses loose her locks upon the night,
And through the dim wood Dian threads her way.
ENVOY.
Prince, let us leave the din, the dust, the spite,
The gloom and glare of towns, the plague, the blight:
Amid the forest leaves and fountain spray
There is the mystic home of our delight,
And through the dim wood Dian threads her way.
poem by Andrew Lang
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The War
There is a sound of thunder afar,
Storm in the south that darkens the day,
Storm of battle and thunder of war,
Well, if it do not roll our way.
Form! form! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!
Be not deaf to the sound that warns!
Be not gull'd by a despot's plea!
Are figs of thistles or grapes of thorns?
How should a despot set men free?
Form! form! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!
Let your Reforms for a moment go,
Look to your butts and make good aims.
Better a rotten borough or so,
Than a rotten fleet or a city of flames!
Form! form! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!
Form, be ready to do or die!
Form in freedom's name and the Queen's!
True, that we have a faithful ally,
But only the devil knows what he means!
Form! form! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Summer Song
THERE are white moon daisies in the mist of the meadow
Where the flowered grass scatters its seeds like spray,
There are purple orchis by the wood-ways' shadow,
There are pale dog-roses by the white highway;
And the grass, the grass is tall, the grass is up for hay,
With daisies white like silver and buttercups like gold,
And it's oh! for once to play thro' the long, the lovely day,
To laugh before the year grows old!
There is silver moonlight on the breast of the river
Where the willows tremble to the kiss of night,
Where the nine tall aspens in the meadow shiver,
Shiver in the night wind that turns them white.
And the lamps, the lamps are lit, the lamps are glow-worms light,
Between the silver aspens and the west's last gold.
And it's oh! to drink delight in the lovely lonely night,
To be young before the heart grows old!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Salt Lake City
Down in utah
The guys and I dig a city called salt lake
Its got the grooviest kids
Thats why we never get tired of salt lake
And the way the kids talk so cool
Is an out of sight thing
And the number one radio station
Makes the town really swing yeah
Salt lake city well be coming soon
Theres a park near the city, yeah
All the kids dig the lagoon now
Its full of all kinds of girls
And rides and well be flyin there soon now
And girl for girl
Theyve got the cutest of the western states
They got the sun in the summer
And winter time the skiing is great yeah
Salt lake city well be coming soon
Salt lake city well be coming soon
Well be coming soon
Well be coming soon
Well be coming soon
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'll Be Back
Messages come, and make us suffer
A letter comes, and keeps on asking…
When are you coming?
When are you coming?
Write me when you're coming home
Without you this house is empty
The one's I trust
A form of rose
Has written me this letter
And has asked me
Someone's breaths, Someone's heartbeat
Someone's desires, Someone's smile
Someone's dull mornings, sleepy evenings
Lonely nights, unsaid words
Longing arms
And have asked her
Longing eyes
That...
When are you coming?
When are you coming?
Write me when you're coming home
Without you this house is empty
The ones with love
My best friends
Have wrote and asked me
My village, my people
Old trees, White clouds
Green grass, my soil
My celebrations, my religion
My farms, my land
My parents and
My wife has asked
When are you coming?
When are you coming?
Write me when you're coming home
Without you this country is lonely and empty
Sometimes a motherly river's letter comes by
And brings along
My childhood days, my games in the backyard
My mother's support, being protected
My mother's lullaby, the softness of her hands
The desire in the eyes, the worries in her words
Hard on the outside, Lovely from the inside
Acts my mom
And asks me in each letter
When are you coming?
When are you coming?
Write me when you're coming home
Without you my lap is empty
Hey the passing wind tell me
Will u please do a little favor for me?
Go to my state and salute to my friends
In that state there's a road
Where my wife and kids live
Just tell them that I love them
Just tell them that I love them
Further down that road
Is my old mother
Just touch her feet and
Say my name in her ear
Hey the passing wind
Just to my friends
My wife and kids,
And my old mother
Send them this message
And tell them that…
I will come home
I will come home
The promise I made to…
My soil
To its colorful nature
To my mother lap
To my blossomed flowers
And to someone's heart…
I will fulfill it
I will come back one day
This war will be over one day
I will come back one day
This war will be over one day
I will come back one day
This war will be over one day
I will come back one day
This war will be over one day
I will come back one day
This war will be over one day
poem by Kiara Davar
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