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Sad Poem

Five locked doors inside a demolished bungalow
Deaf mute on the stage with low-pitched sopranos
A Christmas card falling off from a 5- storey building
A fussy pussycat left with no choice
Broken glasses on my neighbor’s deathbed
Spanish guitar with lonely dead strings
The girl who wore black on her prom
A computer keyboard with missing keys
The violinist running away without a violin
The icing never hit the birthday cake before his interment
Withered petals in November
Lyrics about dreams that never were
The smiling child as the mother wept
Disconnection notice after the black-out

poem by Pete Zaesar Galula
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Bow and Strings

What heavy, dark delirium!
What dim and moonlit heights!
To touch the violin for years
And not to know the strings by light!

Who needs us now? And who lit up
Two hollow, melancholy faces...
And suddenly the bow felt
Someone take them up, unite them.

"How long it's been! Amidst this gloom
Just tell me this: are you still the same?"
The strings caressed the bow,
Rang out, caressed it slightly trembling.

"Is it not true, that we will never more
Be parted. It's enough..."
Yes, replied the violin,
But pain was throbbing in her heart.

The bow discerned it and grew mute,
The echo still continued in the violin...
What was a torture to them both
The people heard as music.

But the violinist didn't snuff
The candles out 'til dawn...The strings sang on...
The sun found them worn out
On the black velvet of their bed.

poem by Innokenty Fedorovich Annensky
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The Doors Are Locked

From inside of this room
I shall not exit
I have locked the doors
To the world outside.
It does not matter to me what is happening outside, because
Behind these locked doors
Is the world that I live in,
This land of my dreams that
I have fabricated for myself alone.
I recall my father recently reading me a story-
Of a woman who created a world within her dreams-
There she lived and locked herself
Inside of the doors that
Barred her from all that is real.
My father's hope was that
I would find my way out from
This place he called the land of my delusions.
This place which he calls the land of my delusions has become
My only veracity.
From the inside of this room
I shall not exit-it is here I safely converse with
The voices inside of my mind.
The doors to this room are locked, but
I can still hear my mother weeping, and
I hear my mother cry out from the midst of her tears-
What has become of my only child?
Inside of this room, I have constructed a world.
The doors are locked and
I have shut reality out-
The doors to my room are locked and
I have lost the key.
My mother is still weeping as her one and only
Has lost the key that would open the doors
To the world outside-
My mother is sobbing; the key is lost and alas-
Her only child's sanity has also been lost.

poem by Claudia Krizay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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All I Want For Christmas

I want someone who understand me
Like me for me who already wonderful as who I am
I can laugh, joke with, and talk like we known each other for years with this guy
You are like icing on my cake that I want
All I want for Christmas
Is you that I want to see everyday
Is like opening new presents and every step of way is surprising
I couldn't ask for more than this
I already got anything I need
If I could wish on star for guy like you
All I want for Christmas
I want precious moment every day I have with you if I could
Every day I feel like something is missing in my life
You make me stay here
All I want for Christmas
Is guy I spend time at this lonely holiday by fireplace
I already have everything, but you
I hope I meet this lucky guy one day
All I want for Christmas

poem by Christina Phan
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Black Rose

Black Rose
By: Adam M. Snow

My dreams are broken;
these words are forever unspoken.
I know not who I am;
I know I am a rose without a stem;
a black rose that bleeds red;
my heart is full of dread.

I try to go beyond this reality;
to a place they call fantasy;
to try and find myself;
by looking for a heart shaped box left upon a shelf;
for I am a black rose that bleeds red;
it seems I am better off dead.

I am a lonely lost ghost;
nevermore will I be your host.
These wounds are but a memory of my affection;
if only you could see my broken reflection.
You caused my hands to be tainted with your blood;
now I have been swept away by this tormented flood.

You left me in solitude;
all alone, cold, and nude.
I know not what to do;
all I wanted was to be with you;
yet you spoke of broken truth;
for you have showed you're uncouth.

I have withered away;
I am no longer here to stay.
I am a black rose;
tormented by my woes.
It's just like I said;
I'm only human, I bleed red.

poem by Adam M. Snow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Twenty-One

A Birthday cake for you,
A Slice of Chocolate Heaven,
It may be too sweet for you,
That's why it's a fake one.

Today you get your keys
Can open many doors,
Watch out for cheeky monkeys,
That hide behind the doors.
Sometimes you get donkeys,
You better slam the doors!
If it is a wolly wookie,
Dash quickly out the doors!
If it turns out Chucky,
You better lock the doors!

I hope that you are lucky,
Waiting behind the doors,
If that is your destiny,
He will find you and be yours.

Happy Birthday Dear!

poem by Philo Yan
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Pink Pussycat

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Pink pussycat
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Pink pussycat
Where are you
Pink pussycat
Im looking for you
Pink pussycat
Meow meow meow
Pink pussycat
Where ya hiding puss
Pink pussycat
Im coming after you
Im gonna mix yer meow-meows
Pink pussycat
Got you in the car
Pink pussycat
Got you in the backseat
Pink pussycat
I wanna touch yer fur
Pink pussycat
Im gonna see you dance
Pink pussycat
Im gonna stand yer fur on end
Pink pussycat
Sleep inside you
Pink pussycat
Lick you clean
Pink pussycat
Gonna mess you up
Pink pussycat
Im a dog
Pink pussycat
Bow wow wow
Pink pussycat
Gonna chase you
Pink pussycat
Gonna catch you
Pink pussycat
Gonna bite you
Pink pussycat
Tear yer little ears off
Pink pussycat
Meow meow meow
Pink pussycat
Im so stroft

song performed by by Devo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Black Day In July

Black day in july
Motor city madness has touched the countryside
And through the smoke and cinders
You can hear it far and wide
The doors are quickly bolted
And the children locked inside
Black day in july
Black day in july
And the soul of motor city is bared across the land
As the book of law and order is taken in the hands
Of the sons of the fathers who were carried to this land
Black day in july
Black day in july
In the streets of motor city is a deadly silent sound
And the body of a dead youth lies stretched upon the ground
Upon the filthy pavement
No reason can be found
Black day in july
Black day in july
Motor city madness has touched the countryside
And the people rise in anger
And the streets begin to fill
And theres gunfire from the rooftops
And the blood begins to spill
Black day in july
In the mansion of the governor
Theres nothing that is known for sure
The telephone is ringing
And the pendulum is swinging
And they wonder how it happened
And they really know the reason
And it wasnt just the temperature
And it wasnt just the season
Black day in july
Black day in july
Motor citys burning and the flames are running wild
They reflect upon the waters of the river and the lake
And everyone is listening
And everyones awake
Black day in july
Black day in july
The printing press is turning
And the news is quickly flashed
And you read your morning paper
And you sip your cup of tea
And you wonder just in passing
Is it him or is it me
Black day in july
In the office of the president
The deed is done the troops are sent
Theres really not much choice you see
It looks to us like anarchy
And then the tanks go rolling in
To patch things up as best they can
There is no time to hesitate
The speech is made the dues can wait
Black day in july
Black day in july
The streets of motor city now are quiet and serene
But the shapes of gutted buildings
Strike terror to the heart
And you say how did it happen
And you say how did it start
Why cant we all be brothers
Why cant we live in peace
But the hands of the have-nots
Keep falling out of reach
Black day in july
Black day in july
Motor city madness has touched the countryside
And through the smoke and cinders
You can hear it far and wide
The doors are quickly bolted
And the children locked inside

song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Broken Glasses (2)

It's all broken glasses falling on the floor
Piece by piece breaking even more
One becoming two with each and every blow
A tree of glasses will never grow

Broken glasses on the floor
A million pieces becoming more
Each piece alone starts to shine
As though each one were becoming alive

A million pieces lie on the floor
Broken glasses broken to the core
They make me cry with their silence alone
As though they believe that all hope is gone
And the light that shines on the edge of a piece
Is like an un-witnessed tear of the pain unseen
As though when the pieces stop falling
All the glasses stop fighting
And chose to shine no more

Broken glasses falling on the floor
What can I say what have I more
Broken glasses I adore
Like a silent heart beat being ignored
Broken glasses are alive
Broken glasses are the life
Of a character broken deep inside

poem by Hafeni Nghidinua
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cut & Paste

you surf tonight
you see a bungalow beside a lake
abandoned

you do not like what is happening there
the birds are mute
and the ants cannot climb the
star apple tree

so to change at least some things
you cut
the bungalow and place it beside
a rail way where a train moves
to another new destination

you want motion and
a song
you cut some notes from a music website
and put them
inside the throat of the mute bird
and so it begins
to sing
for all the lonely ants in there

and they too, begin to dance and build
their little kingdom

the bungalow appears like a some pieces
of assembled wood
dead

you paste some smoke from a busy chimney
you put some live fishes on the lake

and you look at what you have done
you smile

you are putting life to everything
and finally

you copy a picture of yourself, you cut
and then
paste it there

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Christmas Song

Once in a royal David's city
Stood a lonely cattle shed
Where a mother held her baby.
You'd do well to remember the things he later said.
When you're stuffing yourselves at the Christmas parties
You'll just laugh when I tell you to take a running jump.
You're missing the point I'm sure does not need making:
The Christmas spirit is not what you drink.
So how can you laugh when your own mother's hungry,
And how can you smile when the reasons for smiling are wrong?
And if I've just messed up your thoughtless pleasures
Remember, if you wish, this is just a Christmas song.
(Hey! Santa! Pass us that bottle, will you

song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A silly poem about keys

Keys can open doors
they can lock you in
keys on a piano
but not on a Violin.
Keys to a safe
inside a vault
keys lost again
well that's your fault.
Keys on an old typewriter
and on a modern laptop
keys stolen by a thief
to break into a shop.
Keys hang on a keyring
or on a fancy chain
but how on earth can you
dropp them down a drain?
Keys for this and that
a key lying under the mat
having to rush to the Vet
it's been swallowed by the cat.
So I'll end this poem now
and try and get my key
I dropped it down a drain
oh stupid and silly me!

poem by Kevin Halls
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Target

Uptown - downtown
No ones fussy Im a target
Black, white - day, night
No ones fussy Im a target
Somebody say Im crazy
Walking in this neighborhood
Say you cant be too careful
But that wont do no good
Im no one special
But any part of town
Someone could smile at me then
Shake my hand then gun me down
Uptown - downtown
No ones fussy Im a target
Black, white - day, night
No ones fussy Im a target
Somebody say Im crazy
Living in this crazy town
I say maybe youre just lazy
Got to either swim or drown
I know what Im doing
Im happy day to day
But then something happens
Takes my nerve away
Uptown - downtown
No ones fussy Im a target
Black, white - day, night
No ones fussy Im a target

song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You 'Have' To Notice It

Lets...
Discuss,
Racism.
And how it affects you daily.

'It doesn't.'

Comeon.
You have to notice it?

'I do.'

So...
You are affected.

'No.
I am not.'

Of course you are.
You are obviously black.
A black man.

'And? '

If I were black I would notice that.
Everywhere I would notice it.
Everywhere I went...
It would be on my mind.
In my consciousness.
I'd be full of resentment.
I wouldn't be able to sleep,
Knowing I stood out amongst all people.
I would feel insecure.
Emotionally tormented inside,
With wishes to be white.
I would be...

Are you done?

'Yes.
But I just wanted you to know,
How I would feel...
IF I were a black man.'

Sorry to disappoint you.
Perhaps my commitment,
To having an identity with purpose first...
Has not prioritized my being black.
As much as you have.
Are you hoping one day I will feel inferiror?

'You don't? '

By what or who?

'Those who feel they are better than you.'

I don't fantasize.
But I realize there are many who do.
And I notice them everywhere I go.
You have to notice it too?

'I don't.'

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Fingers

I see your fingers
touching tenderly,
reaching out in love
and with great care

plucking at strings and chords
strumming with great skill
and sometimes setting fire
to a tune on your guitar

floating over the piano keys
touching here and there
like a butterfly drifting in the air

tapping keys on the computer keyboard
writing poetry, sometimes songs
singing them along

brushing strokes on a canvass or board
mixing colours to the exact hue
painting images from your head

spreading emotions from the depth of you
magically giving life
dancing along with a rhythm of their own.

poem by Gert Strydom
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The Loneliness Of The Untiring Writer

with equanimity i write for this audience,

deaf,
blind,
mute,

....imagine some monkeys and rats, and worms and squirrels

mute, blind, deaf,
i have no regret at all,

their hearts are bigger than the islands of paradise,
the mute claps with three hundred hands,
the blind sings with all the angelic voices in tens of hundreds
the deaf dances like some kind of a wiggling worm
vitally replicating its numbers geometrically

there is still this
wanting to be caught by a hungry
black bird

it is the silence of the mute that speaks so loudly
like a speaker of the house,

it is the restlessness of the deaf that shakes me,
and i tremble like a cymbal clanging ceaselessly

the chants of the blind, mystifies me,
scented cinders, lighted candles, fireflies on the trees

conclusion: we have become one happy family
and tonight, i will be writing some more for them

I've got no other valuable audience anyway.
and, let me finally add,
it is only my dead mother who still loves me.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Nightmare On A Birthday

birthdays has been happy sense I could remember
it's not going like that forever
there is a twist in this tale
might as well bale
this birthday is on a little girl about to be sixteen
just happy to not be fifteen
no more waiting to drive a car
so you could go far
but instead of getting licence
she gets a poem from tim burton 'vincent'
instead of a happy party
that plays music loudly
the room is dark, scary, and colorful
I find that wonderful
but the girl did not find it perfect for her and her friends
this might be the end
but it doesn't end there
not ever
instead of a ice cream cake
the cake has poison and the frosting is fake
instead of a new ipod
she gets a head of a frog
instead of a party dress with pok-a-dots colored in pink
the dress is pitch black like black ink
instead of a boys
she gets attacking toys
instead of a playstasion three
there are bats and black cats lose free
the girl found it normal birthday for her
now and forever
it's a nightmare all right and also a dream come true
later after that she catched a small flu
but she was happy anyway
so have a happy day

poem by chella Death
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Fantasy: Seven Baby Dragonlets, Cake-and-Icing

Woke up this morning in pizza-pain, combating
it by reading how the dragon Alberic came to
stay with kids who were sad when he left, he
came back with seven baby dragonlets, leaving
one behind to take his place, thus the friendship
chain would go on - the pizza forgotten, I got up
with a feeling of bright expectation – all thanks
to Alberic – I took him along to the shops
staring in delight at chocolate cake with thick
chocolate icing, you said no, pizza’s enough, I said
if I had only three months to live, I’d go on a cake-
with-icing diet, never touching broccoli and spinach
again, I’d eat all the cake and icing I could find,
chocolate, vanilla, mocca, granadilla, with the
icing spread as thick as can be- that’s when
Alberic left me, he couldn’t stand the idea
of so many scrumptious cakes without tasting
some himself, off he went, hunting for cake;
I sought comfort in the tabloids, read with
dismay Britney had a horrible youth, Cat Woman
had been operated upon once too much - deeply
affected, I went to Alberic in a land of magic
where flying dragons love their dragonlets –
then send them forth to befriend
lonely humans…

poem by Margaret Alice
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She

Her rags became her cage.

She was looking right through glasses with glassy eyes

To see her leafed tree of reality.

She remembered that she left her left cast silver glove

On the blank page of her future.

Her gloomy solitude caressed her rain of tears.

Her heart's strings were the strings of an abandoned violin.

Their vibrations were haunting her memories.

Her onyx glances tried to hide her mist.

Her sadness was so complete

That it completely slipped through her shy smile

To become visible to all the people around.

The jerry–rigged reality was poisoning her hopes

And crowded her thoughts to push them into illusions.

She was a simple child inside her clown body,

A soul so caged wanting to be liberated,

While her reality was wretchedly dancing her hopes.

She was wondering if somewhere, someone

Was thinking and dreaming of her.

She walked so lonely on her lonely life road

That nothing could change her fate

She wanted to let her hopes to float on the losing breeze.

poem by Marieta Maglas
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When An 'I Have Had It' Arrives

When an 'I Have Had It' arrives,
With no need of added explanations.
That icing on a cake that has been baking,
Is that final touch needed that ends what had begun.
And sometimes when a unexpected silence comes...
A doing for the good of maintaining one's sanity,
Is the message finally sent to the one getting it.

'You will get no dependency of your insecurities,
Left with me to ignite my guilt.
You see my patience running away from you,
Kicking up that dust?
If you notice the direction it is running towards,
I would say to you...
Forget it ever coming back.'

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Connected

Some folks say to me...

'Lawrence you don't 'write'
Like you are 'black'.

My handwriting 'is' bad sometimes!
I admit to that!
And I was never taught to be a 'black' writer.
But I thank God this keyboard and computer I use...
Could care less what I am.
Black, white, apricot or mustard seed!
As long as I pay the electricity!
And keep everything in my name connected!
Everything is fine...
And I don't have that as an issue!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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