So Many Years Ago
Cigarette smoke undulating from my aunt’s lips,
And her boyfriend is coming down
On a bus from Tennessee;
And I am working so close to the smoking beach,
But I haven’t seen her in so long,
And still I do not go:
I want to be in Colorado secreted in the higher basins,
The important key-holes where the tourists
Are too weak to go;
In fact, I want to summit mountains that have never
Been,
Or have no right to be- for her, or one of my great
Great aught great forgotten grandmothers;
And her name is- just this,
Just a song happening in the night far to the east and
Under her,
Like a French man going down on a airplane,
Like a frog making love to an inebriated princess who
Just doesn’t care;
But that is all I have to say or even think about;
It was the best I could do when trying to remember how
You walked so tremulous and ecstatically real
Your painted nails on your locker’s combination,
Your painted toes in soccer cleats
So many classes, and forgotten generations so many years
Ago.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
I Haven't Forgotten
I haven't forgotten when I meet you first!
I haven't forgotten when I greet you last!
I haven't forgotten your pretty face!
I haven't forgotten your smile and grace!
I haven't forgotten how we started chatting!
I haven't forgotten when we started dating!
I haven't forgotten our last walk together!
I haven't forgotten how I became a loser!
I haven't forgotten how it became too late!
I haven't forgotten when I understood fate!
I haven't forgotten that summer's northwester!
I haven't forgotten and won't forget ever!
poem by Asif Andalib
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Grumpy Grandpa
Grand-daughter of the Painted Nails,
As if they had been dipped in gore,
I'd like to set you lugging pails
And make you scrub the kitchen floor.
I'm old and crotchety of course,
And on this point my patience fails;
I'd sue my old girl for divorce
If she showed up with painted nails.
Grand-daughter of the Painted Nails,
Like to a Jezebel are you;
Do you expect to snare the males
With talons of such bloody hue?
I could forgive your smudging lips,
Your scarlet cheek that powder veils,
But not your sanguine finger-tips . . .
Don't paw me with your painted nails.
Grand-daughter of the Painted Nails,
Were I the sire of maidens ten,
I'd curse them over hills and dales,
And hold them to the scorn of men
If they had claws of crimson dye;
Aye, though they sang like nightingales,
Unto the welkin I would cry:
"Avaunt, ye hags with Painted Nails!"
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Paint It
I see a red door and I want it painted black
No colors anymore, I want them to turn black
I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes
I see a line of cars and they are painted black
With flowers and my love both never to come back
I see people turn their heads and quickly look away
Like a new born baby it just happens every day
I look inside myself and see my heart is black
I see my red door and its heading into black
Maybe then Ill fade away and not have to face the facts
Its not easy facing up when your whole world is black
I wanna see it painted painted, painted black, oh baby
I wanna see it painted painted, painted black, oh baby
No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue
I could not foresee this thing happening to you
If I look hard enough into the setting sun
My love will laugh with me before the morning comes
I wanna see it painted, painted black, oh
Black as night, black as coal
I wanna see the sun blotted from the sky
Painted, painted, painted black oh baby
Painted painted, painted black
song performed by by Vanessa Carlton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cigarette Girl
“Cigarettes, cigarillo, cigars, ” I did say,
as cigarette smoke came my way,
Choking on the smoke from it’s tar,
I only liked the smell of the cigar.
I was a cigarette girl in the casino Mystic Lake,
I got a big tip in high stakes.
It was a $20.00 coin of red,
I had to cash it in before I left.
One day I met the piano man,
He introduced me to Chucky
a generous soul with a helping hand.
Chucky painted my props for my show,
He painted World War II planes a long time ago.
We gambled at this casino all summer long,
I would ride in his car listening to Frankie’s songs.
Cigarette girl job had to end,
I will always remember Chucky my dear old friend.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on September 22,2011
www.suzaechevalier.com www.puppetpoems.com
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The First Artist and Author.
The first artist painted the sky with colors, such beauty,
Look at those sunsets, and the mountains, such reality;
The mountains, have shadows, of splendor that only the Master can do,
Yes! It's God who was the first Artist, and He also taught me too.
The first great artist painted the colors on the sea,
Blues, greens, aquas, Only one could do this you see;
And when there is a storm near, the sea goes so dark blue,
Yes! God is the first great artist, to paint it for me and you.
The first great Artist, loved to teach David to write poetry,
And also king Solomon, writing words of such beauty;
Oh such magnificent works, of color and in each word,
Yes! There is only one who could do this it is the Lord.
Then. We see in every rainbow, and in each shell as well,
Look at the colored sands, and in every bird, it does tell;
Then look at each animal, and also the petals of each flower too
Then as you look at these, , give Thanks for doing it for me and you.
poem by Margaret Haig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Smokin The Herb Again
Yo yo yo, yo, yo yo what
Smoking
Were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Damn, I really wish I could find my sack man
Must have got eaten by pac-man
If I had it I could smoke again
Smoke with my friends to the very end
But now Im trying to comprehend
Whens the next time that Ill smoke again
I need to know, please tell when will we smoke again
I got a buddy, his name is ted
Hes got a problem going through his head
He doesnt know how to puff puff give
But I like so Ill teach him and Ill let him live
Everyday we teach him right
When he divides, we have to fight
But at the end of the trying day
We says its ok and we puff away
Just the other night, I saw you, you were smokin not sharing and being tight
But thats ok, you are my friend, well smoking until the very end
The lessons that we put out, we order you to try it out
Its nice to smoke, yea thats what were all about
Smoking
Were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Hey, ho, hey ho, hey, ho, hey, ho, hey, ho, hey, ho
I smoke, you smoke, we smoke, they smoke, smoking everywhere
I smoke, you smoke, we smoke, they smoke, smoking all together
Smoking
Were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
song performed by by Incubus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cigarette Girl
"Cigarettes, cigarillo, cigars, " I did say,
as cigarette smoke came my way,
Choking on the smoke from it's tar,
I only liked the smell of the cigar.
I was a cigarette girl in the casino Mystic Lake,
I got a big tip in high stakes.
It was a $20.00 coin of red,
I had to cash it in before I left.
One day I met the piano man,
He introduced me to Chucky
a generous soul with a helping hand.
Chucky painted my props for my show,
He painted World War II planes a long time ago.
We gambled at this casino all summer long,
I would ride in his car listening to Frankie's songs.
Cigarette girl job had to end,
I will always remember Chucky my dear old friend.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on September 22,2011
www.suzae.com www.puppetpoems.com
poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Drug's Not Working
I was shooting in the back of the car
When the windows smashed on the police cars
I was swimming through the streets of New York
With my cocaine dagger and throats to cut
And it was making her cry
And it was making her cry
And it was making her cry
But it was making me high
She was a hooker at the age of 16
All she wanted was the money
She didn't need an I.D.
She was a junkie and I know its clich
But then so was her life
I mean, she lived in L.A.
And it was making her cry
And it was making her cry
And it was making her cry
But it was making her high
And it was making her cry
And it was making her cry
And it was making her cry
But it was making her high
And it was making her cry
And it was making her cry
(Riot in my skull, demons are coming)
And it was making her cry
(Los Angeles is dead, the drugs ain't working)
And it was making her cry
(Painted it all black, the chains are jerking)
And it was making her cry
(Los Angeles is dead, the drugs ain't working)
And it was making her cry
(Riot in my skull, demons are coming)
And it was making her cry
(Los Angeles is dead, the drugs ain't working)
And it was making her cry
(Los Angeles is dead, the drugs ain't working)
Riot in my skull, demons are coming
L.A. your dead, the drugs ain't working
Painted it all black, the chains are jerking
L.A. is dead, the drugs ain't working
L.A. your dead, the drugs ain't working
L.A. your dead, the drugs ain't working
The drugs ain't working
The drugs ain't working
song performed by by Ryan Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Once I Pass'd Through A Populous City
ONCE I pass'd through a populous city, imprinting my brain, for
future use, with its shows, architecture, customs, and
traditions;
Yet now, of all that city, I remember only a woman I casually met
there, who detain'd me for love of me;
Day by day and night by night we were together,--All else has long
been forgotten by me;
I remember, I say, only that woman who passionately clung to me;
Again we wander--we love--we separate again;
Again she holds me by the hand--I must not go!
I see her close beside me, with silent lips, sad and tremulous.
poem by Walt Whitman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Forgotten One
The forgotten One
Mary Joe where are you know? Forgotten bones in a grave yard?
He was such a dashing man and you drove with him through
the night, crossing a bridge that wasn’t there, into the water and
then you where alone breathing through pockets of air in the car.
Struggling to breaths the air, between the roof of the car and water,
getting smaller, but you just knew he was coming to rescue you,
he was such a nice boy. When you knew he wasn’t coming and
there was no more air to breath you knew you had been a rich
man’s toy and your tears mingled became the sea. Mary Joe
I have not forgotten you, the man who betrayed you is dead, they
gave him a great send off the president and the famous came to his
funeral., and amongst the speeches no one mentioned your name.
Even your parents were paid off not to mention your name, yet
I do remember your face from the press and I will remember you.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Beautiful Game (soccer)
I love you more than my old soccer cleats,
The ones I’ll never give up.
I love you more than the perfect field,
The one I use to warm up.
I love you more than my soccer ball,
The one that’s perfect for amazing passes.
I love you more than me running along those different types of grasses.
I love you more than the cheering crowds,
The stands made out of plaster.
I love you more than that perfect kick,
That I have yet to master.
I love you more than my soccer cleats the ones that hold all reason.
I love you more than my coach, my soccer team and my season.
I love you more than winning that world cup,
That we have yet to reclaim.
I can’t believe I love you more than the beautiful game.
The Forgotten Soldier
The forgotten soldier. Hes getting older. Hes getting colder. Scarred for all eternity. Searching for divinity. Prayer yet to be answered. Smoking has just brought cancer. The forgotten soldier. Hes getting older. Hes getting colder. Looking for forgiveness in all the wrong places. So many name and so many faces. An anecdotal pun he has become. A history lesson has been undone. Wars never can be won. The forgotten soldier. Hes getting older. Hes getting colder. In his eyes lies the blood of many. Sleepless nights of sacrifice and murder. And in the end their is no one to comfort him. The forgotten soldier. Hes getting older. Hes getting colder. Times have changed. Now he can only wish he was flying a jet plane. Treated like dirt. Crippled and weak. And the man just turns the other cheek. The forgotten soldier. Hes getting older. Hes getting colder. Today is his birthday and he spends it in a nursing home all alone. To all he is forgotten dead and gone. But i remember, i remember all the forgotten soldiers.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Don't Forget who is your Father
God is Great
He created you and me so ladies and gentleman
he is the only person to praise and pray
Cause some of us we pray Alan people you pray him
who is him God is the one who created us
so guys help me to Thank him every time i'm sick i call him cause
he is the hiller the killer of diseases in the world
Help me to sing.
How great is our God sing with me how great is our God
all we sing is how great is our God age to age praise his
Great great great great great
great great great great great great great
great great great great great great great
great great great great great great great great great great great
GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD..
Thank you Help me pliz.
poem by Ruvimbo Daisy Matsika
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dub Medly 2
From under that great stone got to move
From under that great stone gots to remove
From under that great stone
Stone of babylon
From under that great stone got to remove
Real real real
That's so real to me
I love him
Because he leads me to victory
Many people doubt him
But I can't live without him
Just because I love him so
He's so real to me
It shall be done
All of my troubles and triumphs
When I get over
Over on the other side
I'm gonna shake my hands with me elders
I'm gonna tell all the people good morning
I'm gonna tell all the telephone chalace
That I will
Oh ain't got no style and ain't got no fashion
Elementary
Ain't got that style and ain't got no fashion
Walkin' down with your dreads
The doctor love you so well...
Now that you're dead
Oh it's war upon the East
War upon the South
War upon the North this is what it's all about
You can see when they're coming and going
So I start walkin'
Night and day I'm walkin'
Over on the other side
From under that great stone gots to move
song performed by by Sublime
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Freestyle
From under that great stone got to move
From under that great stone gots to remove
From under that great stone
Stone of babylon
From under that great stone got to remove
Real real real
That's so real to me
I love him
Because he leads me to victory
Many people doubt him
But I can't live without him
Just because I love him so
He's so real to me
It shall be done
All of my troubles and triumphs
When I get over
Over on the other side
I'm gonna shake my hands with me elders
I'm gonna tell all the people good morning
I'm gonna tell all the telephone chalace
That I will
Oh ain't got no style and ain't got no fashion
Elementary
Ain't got that style and ain't got no fashion
Walkin' down with your dreads
The doctor love you so well...
Now that you're dead
Oh it's war upon the East
War upon the South
War upon the North this is what it's all about
You can see when they're coming and going
So I start walkin'
Night and day I'm walkin'
Over on the other side
From under that great stone gots to move
song performed by by Sublime
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Genius
A hundred generations have gone into its making,
With all their love and tenderness, with all their dreams and tears;
Their vanished joy and pleasure, their pain and their heart-breaking,
Have colored this rare blossom of the long-unfruitful years.
Their victory and their laughter for this have strong men given,
For this have sweet, dead women paid in patience which survives
That a great soul might bring the world, as from the gate of heaven,
All that was rich and beautiful in those forgotten lives.
poem by Lucy Maud Montgomery
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How Great
Like a mother mine was delighted she gave birth
It feels as great as we felt coming to live on earth
Great as we thought it was when joining school
Highly respectable as we perceived our graduation
with great love of money for love and infatuation
Much as we thought money made people great
Then the job made great impact on love perception
We were held higher by those thinking we were great
Our mind made us take a great pride in education
With little regards to the good great book we forgot
For great eloquence in language for communication
For great crowds of ladies and gentlemen we fought
The more lovers one has, the easier it was to feel great
How great was the lavish and satisfaction
How great the diversity and the depth we experienced
How great the comfort to feel the hardness and softness
How great on earth does it taste fornication?
How great when we fear not for our Godlessness
How great when we die is going to be our tribulation?
poem by Linus Kithinji Njeru
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Little Is Gone (But Not Forgotten)
I walked the line of self-destruction,
and self-mutilation,
my insanity was legendary,
and my madness took over my body and soul,
and than you walked into my life,
with a bright little smile,
and so curious,
you loved every minute of your life,
your friends,
your school,
and your teachers,
but know I look at the empty chair,
and I wonder what could have been,
what kind of life that you could of had,
if you hadn't felt the way that you did,
Chorus: My Little Girl IS Gone,
But Not Forgotten,
My Little Girl Is Gone,
But Not Forgotten,
My Little Girl Is Gone,
But Not Forgotten
Me you and your mother,
spent each day living life to the fullest,
unaware of the demons in your pretty little skull,
unaware of the hate that you had for this world,
the hate that you had for yourself,
that was destroying your mind,
body spirit and soul,
and destroying the love that you had for us,
I couldn't imagine,
life without you with us here,
in this life,
But what are we to do,
It’s so hard and so sad,
its like we can't move on,
Daddy has grown insane,
and Mommy's not far behind him,
Chorus: My Little Girl Is Gone,
But Not Forgotten,
My Little Girl Is Gone,
But Not Forgotten,
My Little Girl Is Gone,
But Not Forgotten,
The pain will never go away,
and I'll never dry my tears,
that rolls down my cheeks when I think of you,
that void in my heart and soul will always be there,
where you used to rest,
the part of me that can never be repaired,
I'll always have you in my heart,
in my body,
and in my soul.,
Life Fades,
but that doesn’t mean love has to,
Little Girl,
you'll always be in my heart,
my body and my soul,
but mostly you will always have a safe home,
in my heart,
I'd never think I'd feel like this,
strange to be like this,
strange to feel this alone,
but you know,
we will cross paths once more,
in the great beyond,
Chorus: My Little Girl Is Gone,
But Not Forgotten,
My Little Girl Is Gone,
But Not Forgotten,
My Little Girl Is Gone,
But Not Forgotten,
She’s always going to be our little girl,
she’s always going to be our little angel,
she’s always going to be our little Sarah,
she’s always going to rest in our hearts,
Mommy and me will get by,
Well be looking for you up in heaven,
when we finally get there,
were going to be looking for you, Babygirl,
We'll be looking for our little angel..
Chorus: My Little Girl Is Gone,
But Not Forgotten,
My Little Girl Is Gone,
But Not Forgotten,
My Little Girl Is Gone,
But Not Forgotten,
Little girl,
you'll never be forgotten,
mommy and daddy still love you,
and will always love you,
poem by Robert Rumery
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Airplane
Up on the airplane
Nearer my God to thee
I start making a deal
Inspired by gravity
If I did wrong I wont do it again
Cause I can be sweet and good and nice
And if I had enemies their friends
Ill hold to my life with the grip of a vice
And Im up on the airplane
Nearer my God to thee
I start making a deal
Inspired by gravity
That little spot on the ground is my hometown
I like to call it my home and its sweet
Id rather take a seat down there
Than a throne up here up above 30,000 feet
And Im up on the airplane
I never should have read my horoscope
Or the fortune on the bubble strip
Saying what you think wont happen will
A great thing to read before a trip
On an airplane
Pilot says the big blue skys like a swimming pool
Big fluffy clouds like a feather bed
Id rather have a real pillow underneath my head
Lying in my bed which is in my hometown
Which is on the ground
Far from an airplane
(my bed my hometown)
Far from an airplane
(on the ground my bed my hometown)
Far from an airplane
(on the ground my bed my hometown)
On the airplane
(on the ground)
[Ill be making a deal]
On the airplane
(on the ground)
[Ill be making a deal]
On the airplane
[Ill be making a deal]
[Ill be making a deal]
[Ill be making a deal]
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Declared No More
He was declared no more
As he was not breathing, therefore
There was no sign of any move
He had left behind nothing so as to prove
No one can say that he was worthless
Full contentment was seen on the face
His eyes were fully closed as if under the deep sleep
I saw him motionless and controlled not to weep
It gives pain when someone truly departs
For many years one remains associated with as reliable and part
We may appreciate his worth only after demise
Remember his stubborn stance for any promises made
I had seen him working very hard
He was always fearlessly moving forward
Not only him but will take many along his side
Give suitable piece of advice and confide
He did not dream with his ideals
He knew it can’t be transformed into real
Yes he did not leave hope for the best
As he considered it as life time test
We all adored him so long as he was with us
Even after his demise we put even more trust
It is not the time to weep for his departure
As he has left nothing to be assured
Some of the friends are easily forgotten
We may miss them as if something is stolen
Time and again we may miss his absence
As he was towering strength for us in his presence
I would love to pay great tribute to him as true man
He was in real sense a great humorist and human
We may have many friends as close associate
But only few will make impact to relate
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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