Sometimes I Can Hear the Confusion and Sorrow
The television buzzes and pops
and the dishes loom in their piles
while the dog looks up from
her empty water dish,
the laundry is folded in sorted piles
yet to be claimed by the household,
and the internet is on
so nobody calls,
and under the three remaining bulbs
a yellow light is cast,
thrown among crusty plates,
and the papers are spread out
in categorized piles to show
if we can afford to just throw away
the spaghetti hardening in the pot,
while the cat yowls at the doorknob,
but nobody hears
over the sound of things falling apart
while the television drones on
about tornadoes.
poem by Ayn Timmerman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Life Is Worth Living
Piles of papers on the floor,
Color coded to master,
Eight hours a day to fiddle,
Oh, what a job to settle.
Lego toys and cereal crumbs,
Dirty clothes on the floor,
Piles of plates on the counter,
Oh, what a job thereafter.
But life goes on no matter what
Will it be in its deepest mystery,
And as we seek our own destiny,
We’ll trip and fall along the way.
Those of us who fell in to a pit,
Slum of poor among the poorest,
We strive life for what is best,
And what it’s worth than shame
There are dreams we believe,
Fractions of real and unreal,
Making our minds to wish more,
Things we cannot or do not have.
poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On the subject of spinach: divide into little piles. Rearrange again into new piles. After five of six maneuvers, sit back and say you are full.
Delia Ephron in How To Eat Like A Child
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Growing Piles
Bliss comes
Bliss goes
Another thorn
From a faded rose
Once taken in with joy and smiles
Now thrown in pain on growing piles
Sometime maybe
Somewhere baby
Will we meet once more
Sometime baby
Somewhere maybe
Will we manage an encore
Just now the fog
is no memory jog
Of how this came to be
A break felt oh so painfully
Once days were filled with joy and smiles
While the washing up just grew in piles
Sometime maybe
Somewhere baby
We will meet once more
Sometime baby
Somewhere maybe
We'll manage that encore....
(c) Rhumour
January 9th 2010
In The Beginning
Pre> first man: I think, I think I am, therefore I am, I think.
Establishment: of course you are my bright little star,
Ive miles
And miles
Of files
Pretty files of your forefathers fruit
And now to suit our
Great computer,
Youre magnetic ink.
First man: Im more than that, I know I am, at least, I think I must be.
Inner man: there you go man, keep as cool as you can.
Face piles
And piles
Of trials
With smiles.
It riles them to believe
That you perceive
The web they weave
And keep on thinking free. /pre>
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Throw Away Your Television
Throw away your television
Time to make this clean decision
Master waits for it's collision now
It's a repeat of a story told
It's a repeat and it's getting old
Throw away your television
Make a break big intermission
Recreate your super vision now
It's a repeat of a story told
It's a repeat and it's getting old
[Chorus:]
Renegades with fancy gauges
Slay the plague for it's contagious
Pull the plug and take the stages
Throw away your television now
Throw away your television
Take the noose off your ambition
Reinvent your intuition now
It's a repeat of a story told
It's a repeat and it's getting old
[Chorus]
Throw away your television
Salivate to repetition
Levitate this ill condition now
It's a repeat
song performed by by Red Hot Chili Peppers from By The Way
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When Winter Comes
The leaves have finished their journey
The trees are naked now
As the first flake falls it flickers and sparkles
The clouds build piles of snow on the ground
Children jump up and down excitedly waiting to be freed
Dead frozen grass underneath the piles of snow waiting patiently for spring
Snowmen, snow angels were left alone to vanish with the winds and foot steps
Snowball fights had forced everyone to hide
When winter comes i want to stay under my blanket all day long
poem by Innocent Rose
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Tv Is King
All right! yeah!
I wish I was a man with a mechanical heart
Id conquer all my enemies alone
Id tear the guys apart
Then scatter the pieces
I wish I was the man in the sound proof booth
I wish I had a chance to stump the band
Or maybe tell the truth
And maybe I could win a color television
I really love my television
I love to sit by television
Cant live without my television
Tv is king
Youre my everything
I wish I had the girl with the bouncy hair
Wed ride off in a brand new car
Or fly a plane somewhere
Like probably jamaica
Ill brush my teeth, shampoo my hair,
And shave my face
Apply the necessary aerosol
In the appropriate place
And well spend the night together
Watching television
I cant turn off my television
Dont really know why television
I understand my television
Youve got your works in a drawer
And your colors on track
You have to brave the way
But you always come back
You make a hundred changes
But youre always the same
You make me so excited
And you make me so lame
Youre just a cute ball of gas
And a box full of tin
But you show me your junk
And I want to jump in
Oh if only your chassis
Was covered with skin
cause tv youre my everything
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nobody Home!
newspaper clippings,
angels, and dust.
an old chair roaring silence,
rusted spoon, empty plate.
great piles of leaves,
blown by the wind....
hoarfrost on the windows,
a bulb without a shade.
water boiling on the stove...
nobody home!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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This damn television
(This is a fictional poem)
I hate this damn television that my wife just bought.
When I ask people if I'm intelligent, they say I'm not.
This TV only picks up one channel and that really blows.
It only has one program that's about washing clothes.
This one show is irritating and it's starting to make me fume.
Why did my wife put this damn television in the laundry room?
poem by Randy Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Black & White Television
I looked in the mirror then
Saw my face in a dream.
With eyes sharp as diamonds
Blessed with clear vision.
Things were not as they seemed.
Black and white television
Stared back from the wall.
Is that my life?
Am I here at all?
Down in the high road, see
Motor cavalcades glide
Past shopwindow dressers
Desperately covering
All the parts they can hide.
Black and white television
Stares at me again.
Is that their lives?
Even dummies pretend.
The truth is so hard to deny.
The answer is here.
The screen never lies.
Black and white television.
Its the right television.
Show me its all a dream tonight.
The boys on the corner sulk
In their suzuki haze.
In primary colours
(each year more startling)
But they still fade to grey
On black and white television.
Its sweeping the land.
Is that your life?
Do you understand?
The truth is so hard to deny.
The answer is here.
The screen never lies.
Black and white television.
Back the right television.
Black and white television.
Hard to fight television.
Show me its all a dream tonight.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Can't get enough
Can't get enough of your gentle touch
I like it so much
Can't get enough of your wet lips
They send me on a pleasurable moaning trip
Can't get enough of your enchanting smile
They keep me in a trance all the while
and simply multiplie in piles and piles
Can't get enough of your thoughtful ways
Showering me with your care everyday
Can't get enough of the warmth of your body
It cries out my name
and lights my heart with your flame
Can't get enough of the laughter in your voice
The sweet melody to my ears takes away all the noise
Can't get enough of your beautiful kind eyes
Sometimes I just can't help wondering why
Can't get enough of your sweet white lies
That's when I try to avoid your awful cries
I simply can't get enough of you baby!
Copyright 2005 - Sylvia Chidi and Nnenna Kamara
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Darling, Please Forgive Me
My darling, please forgive me for all the things I do wrong.
Bet you never thought it would be so bad first time I came along;
Especially during tough times when you needed a loved one there
To listen with an open mind and closed mouth and really care.
When I get mad and shout at you, please just consider the source…
I apologize for all the times I'm so nasty, inconsiderate and coarse.
I'm sorry for the many occasions I could have helped you out,
But sat at my desk shuffling piles of papers like a self-serving lout.
And for those other innumerable, thoughtless things I do
I beg your pardon, ask for forgiveness and please remember…
I'll always be deeply in love with you from every January through
Every December!
poem by Gregory Huyette
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One Of Those Days
I open my eyes another day is here
The sun's already high
Can not recall just what I was dreamin'
But I'm sure I can catch the reprise somehow
Piles of dirty socks just everywhere
I don't feel like washing up today
Somehow I really just don't care
I think I'll stay in bed all day
This is one of those days when I'll do just not a thing
Lazing 'til the hour's late then maybe I'll sleep just a little wink
I know that breakfast can wait until later
I don't have anything but the dish in the kitchen
Nothing to read nothing's on the TV
Everyone's on vacation can't say that I miss 'em
This is one of... ::
song performed by by Quorthon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In the shallow parts of many Swiss lakes, where there is a depth of no more than from 5 to 15 feet of water, ancient wooden piles are observed at the bottom sometimes worn down to the surface of the mud, sometimes projecting slightly above it.
quote by Charles Lyell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Taking out the Trash
Twice a week in break of dawn
While the stars are outstanding
I screw the plastic lids on tight
Moles and chipmunks might get in
Summer in my shirtsleeves smart
A chorus of derisive birds
Winter with my overcoat
Frost and mist, dismissive words
The plastic, glass and house discards
Out by six and standing proud
Proclaiming waste and affluence
Of which we do not speak aloud
Who has the skills to sort this stuff
The piles we evacuate
Who can recycle or degrade
The trash we have thrown out too late
Nothing to rescue or be claimed
Once items pass their sell-by date.
poem by Frank Bana
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It Isn't Everyday One Makes An Order, And Throws Out The Past
It isn’t everyday one makes an order, throws out the past
Goes through the piles of old papers
And sees here a missed opportunity there another time of life
Which one has long forgotten
Throwing most of the business papers away
And holding on to most personal things
One finds letters one did not answer
And dreams one did not begin to realize
Pictures are most painful
People no longer here
Loved ones in youth
Oneself as one was and will never be again
A life in these things
And almost gone
Cancelled bank books
Money one had once and no longer has
Love and people who were once one’s whole life
And are now strangers
The children
In so many different ages and times
The children no longer children
The past too too much past
Weighing me down with grief and despair
Asking myself how I can go on and for how much longer
Before someone else has to deal with the mess
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Little black box called Television!
I watch it
Morning, day and night
The plasma screens are quite a sight
Soap Operas, Reality Shows, Movies
I watch anything there is to see
But the little black box called Television
Gets on my nerves
Images of other people’s life it serves
As a daily dish to my vision
Even my own ideas about fashion
Are ruthlessly destroyed in its mission
To impose on me of how to live
But I love Television
I am addicted to Television
Like glue is to paper
Or love making is to a beginner
I am its concubine with my permission
Please at me, don't point a finger
When I am lonely
It is easier to pretend
The images presented by TV
Are my friends
When I am horny
Without sounding funny
I can make love in my bed
After breakfast in bed
To anyone from the TVs images
Now endorsed into my head
That little black box
Sucks, it really sucks
It is just a vicious circle
Bed, Work, Television and Bed
Bed, Work, Television and Bed
Bed, Work, Television and Bed
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Not a breath of air stirred over the free and open prairie; the clouds were like light piles of cotton; and where the blue sky was visible, it wore a hazy and languid aspect.
quote by Francis Parkman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Slander piles itself before the door of a widow.
Silent Snow
A single pane of glass divides
Myself from falling snow outside.
The first of many falling snows
That these white winter skies will know.
And taking then my quiet leave
The snow alights on cap and sleeve,
While walking slowly up the hill
I realize then the world is still
All still except for falling flakes
Filling fast the tracks I make.
All still except for swelling smiles
Growing with the snow in piles.
All still within a quiet mind
All still as footprints left behind.
poem by William Mcgehee
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