The thoughtful napping
Of my gray cat at noontime
Calms my dreary soul
haiku by Owen Johnston
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The cryptic preening
Of my black cat at midnight
Calms my dreary soul
haiku by Owen Johnston
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What dreary soul... [Ce suflet trist...]
What dreary soul have given me
My folks, I can't explain,
How come it's filled up to the brim
With restlessness and pain?
What dreary soul, without an aim,
Made of a lifeless clay,
Which after many lies and tricks
Still hopes to find its way?
How come it doesn't feel the curse,
The blows that make it bow?
O, waves of the majestic sea,
Please, take me with you now!
poem by Mihai Eminescu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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~Not a Rhyme~
its taste bitter
but sweet
so strong
but some work
calms my soul
and saves my breath
as it slowly slides
through my throat
the smell not such a delight
but oh the taste!
and its magic!
the way it heals
the way it calms;
the way things disappear
i cant let it go
the taste it hurts
its like a drug
but i cant stop
i want more
i pour a glass
dont care take my magic
i need it
it helps clear this mind that is going crazy
poem by WaitingFor SomethingNew
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It remains to consider what attitude thoughtful men and Christian believers should take respecting them, and how they stand related to beliefs of another order.
Golden Years? (A day in the life of seniors)
When you are old and gray and full of sleep-
And the morning light breaks upon the hill-
Your weary bones creak with the havoc of arising-
Breaking the absolute of earlys morns still;
The stillness breaks the world awake-
As our gray fights to overcome infirmity-
Morning eggs stir yellow upon this stove of life-
And saves our sinews from utter calamity;
We move our sleepy bodies ever slowly-
Tired bones but awaiting the noontime sun-
Gray and old we manage our steps in frail paces-
As we do when day has finally begun;
A heaviness envelopes in late afternoon-
Four P.M. announces many a fragile yawn-
Heart beats struggle to flow the blood-
Congested from damage thats been done;
Dinner arrives with plates of health?
Struggling to make our nutrition right-
Preparing our gray bodies for ebons arrival-
Flannel nighties and long johns for the night;
The twilight and dusk permeate now-
As the sun sets over the hill in the west-
The old and the gray yawning eyes heavy lidded-
Prepare for a night of sleep and hopefully restoring rest;
poem by Theodora Onken
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Why [De ce?]
More thoughtful and disheartened, too,
On the same road he went away
He didn't smile like used to do...
Oh, why on Earth he came my way?
He's mad at me or so it seems:
His heart is cold? I cannot say,
I troubled not his cloudless dreams...
Oh, why on Earth he came my way?
But at my window from the drive
With dreary eyes he looked today
Maybe his love is still alive...
If not, why would he come my way?
poem by Iulia Haşdeu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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It was post war. It was very gray, very dreary. Everything was still rationed when I first saw the United States in 1951. I went over to visit my sister who was a war bride.
quote by John Mahoney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I've tried doing so, for it was never my intention to paint only with gray. But in the course of my work I have eliminated one color after another, and what has remained is gray, gray, gray!
quote by Alberto Giacometti
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The thoughtful soul to solitude retires.
quote by Omar Khayyam
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shades of Gray
Until now two extremes have shaped the days
From opposite ends of the scale of grays.
One without hue and not really white,
Because it couldn’t reflect all incident light.
The other lacked hue since rays that would fall
Were absorbed with no light reflecting at all.
Henceforth, a hopeful force steers a course of moderation.
Opposite ends of the spectrum will no longer stifle a nation.
Thoughtful, careful shades of gray soon will prevail
As crises require scalpel rather than hammer and nail.
Up to now opposite ends have been easiest to support;
Sadly, they have created an extreme world about to abort.
Intelligence and wisdom will finally have a strategic say,
Addressing issues here and abroad through shades of gray.
Problems are staggering and will need cooperation
Of electorate and politicians to avoid a depressed nation.
A miracle has happened to show that all are shades of gray,
As major changes are effected in this quest for a new day!
poem by Gregory Huyette
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The Rainy Day
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.
My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.
Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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A Cloudy Day
Oh my I am about to die here
so unhappy the sun isn't here
I am so bored
thinking of eating a chocolate bar
hope this helps~
back with important news
the chocolate bar didn't help
no blue skies only dreary gray
should have stayed in bed today
signed sunprincess
poem by Rachel Nichols
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This Moment, Yearning And Thoughtful
THIS moment yearning and thoughtful, sitting alone,
It seems to me there are other men in other lands, yearning and
thoughtful;
It seems to me I can look over and behold them, in Germany, Italy,
France, Spain--or far, far away, in China, or in Russia or
India--talking other dialects;
And it seems to me if I could know those men, I should become
attached to them, as I do to men in my own lands;
O I know we should be brethren and lovers,
I know I should be happy with them.
poem by Walt Whitman
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Hep Hep Hurray
do you watch it every noontime
the hep hep hurray
of our day to day
existence,
you match your actions
to your words
and if they do not
then you are
definitely
out!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My mother buried three husbands... and two of them were only napping.
quote by Rita Rudner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No matter what happens, the U.S. Navy is not going to be caught napping.
quote by Frank Knox
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My mother buried three husbands - and two of them were only napping.
quote by Rita Rudner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What is it?
Is there something in the air?
In the gray fatigued sky
That holds no hope of blue,
In the dreary sunshine
That smells of everyday mundaneness,
In the enslaved moon
Tired of bathing the earth?
What is it that lets us survive
the weariness of existence
and make us come back time and again
From the brink of despair?
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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Now At Liberty
Little white love, your way you've taken;
Now I am left alone, alone.
Little white love, my heart's forsaken.
(Whom shall I get by telephone?)
Well do I know there's no returning;
Once you go out, it's done, it's done.
All of my days are gray with yearning.
(Nevertheless, a girl needs fun.)
Little white love, perplexed and weary,
Sadly your banner fluttered down.
Sullen the days, and dreary, dreary.
(Which of the boys is still in town?)
Radiant and sure, you came a-flying;
Puzzled, you left on lagging feet.
Slow in my breast, my heart is dying.
(Nevertheless, a girl must eat.)
Little white love, I hailed you gladly;
Now I must wave you out of sight.
Ah, but you used me badly, badly.
(Who'd like to take me out tonight?)
All of the blundering words I've spoken,
Little white love, forgive, forgive.
Once you went out, my heart fell, broken.
(Nevertheless, a girl must live.)
poem by Dorothy Parker
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On Hearing A Grey Shrike Thrush
The grey shrike thrush on branch of mountain gray
At twilight of a most Unspring like day
On October eve made damp by drizzling rain
And grey bird sing his same song o'er again
And freshening wind has breath of winter sting
Seems more like Winter now than middle Spring
And wind driven rain fall from the darkening sky
And still the gray thrush pipes his notes of joy.
I wonder why he sing so merrily
On low down branch of noble gray gum tree
Could it be that he can tell from inner eye
That tomorrow's weather will be warm and dry? .
Or could he sing that in some nearby tree
His wife on nest shelter new family
And he tell his neighbours this my territory
And I'm now a dad 'oh lucky happy me'? .
And why he sing should it matter anyway
His song at close of wet October day
The weather dreary for the time of year
But grey thrush's notes sweet music to the ear.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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