That Day In Th Park
in the park kids play
people lay on the grass
water fountain lines past the slides
no one brought a bottle
sitting on a bench talking to him
then comes the silver car
the gun five to the
front three to the back
gun smoke fill the air
the car speeds off
with a black perminate mark on the pavement
though fainter then the red
which washes with the rain
but it stays in the heart
should he die not her
he died she pulled though
he told god take him spare her
poem by Lexxiey Scott
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Related quotes
Ignorance Has Died
Why are they so gloomy?
Sitting and dressed as if for mourning?
'They have been there for a few days,
Sitting in a vigil.
Praying over the demise of ignorance.'
LOL...
You can not be serious.
Why don't you tell them,
Ignorance has yet to pass.
'Are you kidding?
Do you realize how long it took me,
To devise some kind of a plan...
That would keep them quiet.'
So how long you think they will sit like that?
'I don't know.
I paid some kids a few dollars,
If for two weeks they would walk up and down the streets...
Carrying school books and talking loudly,
About their Math and English classes.
I'm on a roll,
So I'm pulling out all stops to see what happens next.'
But it is still Summer.
All the kids are on vacation.
'When I told those children sitting in that room,
That 'ignorance' has died.
I was joking.
I thought they knew it was a joke.
They have been sitting like that for at least two days.'
And that's why you pay the other kids?
'Yeah.
Do you know how much I've spent on cellphones,
Video games, iPods and 3-D Tv's?
To get those kids nagging off my back.
And all I had to say...
Was 'ignorance' has died? '
I don't believe it!
'You?
I've been trying to find something totally ridiculous to say,
To get them to clean up their rooms.
I'm glad I don't drink or smoke crack.
I don't believe it either.
But you are my witness.'
And all you said was 'ignorance' has died?
'I swear to you.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Friends
my brown dog
under my legs
a blue bird
a hand away
a water fountain
a blue bird drinking
my hand on the brown dog
my legs and hands reaching
my mouth drinking water
the water fountain
doing some other things
besides hearing the world
the people in front of you
they are not your friends
there is this bar
that is that bench
words keep talking
ears shut
got to play with words
multi-tasking and evasive
believe me not
i do what is to be done now.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Day In Park
swings, slides and sand
the park so peaceful early in the day
the sun rising, shadows casting across the grass
the breeze flow so soft, quiet and free
the ball diamond so peaceful and empty
soon the sounds of children laughing and parents chatting
the park comes to life with all to enjoy
dogs playing catch, kids flying kites
grills cooking and picnics galore
the fields so full from footballs to baseballs
playing catch, to playing tag
reading on a bench, laying on a blanket for a tan
the park so pictureous and a masterpiece
It's art and spirit so priceless
we never have enough parks for all to see
to be free and play
Parks nature's playground for us to play
poem by Michael Peterson
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Park Bench
Sitting on a park bench,
the fragrance of the grass
scents the fresh air.
It makes you look more closely
to everything that is there.
The beauty of the day,
white clouds, no black ones of dismay.
A breeze that bends
every leaf and petal to and fro.
Then there are the colours,
a multitude of green.
Everything assaults our senses,
every smell and flower there.
The sun is over my shoulder,
blue skies, and no clouds in sight.
As I sit here on a park bench
enjoying everything, I see.
(7 July 2007)
poem by David Harris
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My Brother’s Fountain
He died last year about this time
I still miss him every day
I think about him all the time
For my brother’s gone away
I have the fountain he once had
There’s a special place in my yard
Surrounded by his favorite Roses
They are beautifully standing guard
I also have in this honored spot
A park bench so I can hear
The trickle of water down the rocks
A sound that is oh, so dear
It brings back so many memories
All the years when we were children
It’s like spending time with him again
Listening to my brother’s fountain!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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Local Park
When you want a good walk
Through day or the dark,
The place to go is our local park,
The park is a pride
The finest ever seen,
Tree's and grass always ever green..
There's swings for the kids
For all girls and boys,
Sea saw and paddling pool
To fill in their joys.
There's a path walk way all the way round
If you want a good walk
And summer seats to sit if you want a good talk,
The park has a lake and plenty good sport,
Bowling on the green and tennis on the court.
There's plenty of fun
Plenty to do,
Even at the park
Good swimming pool there to,
The pool has a cafe
If you want to call in
A wee cup of tea or have a good swim.
There's cricket and football
A horse riding track,
And even a good golf course
It's way round the back.
So here is our park
That's full of good pride,
Were ducks swim the water
And kids play the slide
poem by Gerald Follis Lurgan
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The Secret of Light
I am sitting contented and alone in a little park near the Palazzo Scaligere in Verona, glimpsing the mists of early autumn as they shift and fade among the pines and city battlements on the hills above the river Adige.
The river has recovered from this morning's rainfall. It is now restoring to its shapely body its own secret light, a color of faintly cloudy green and pearl.
Directly in front of my bench, perhaps thirty yards away from me, there is a startling woman. Her hair is black as the inmost secret of light in a perfectly cut diamond, a perilous black, a secret light that must have been studied for many years before the anxious and disciplined craftsman could achieve the necessary balance between courage and skill to stroke the strange stone and take the one chance he would ever have to bring that secret to light.
While I was trying to compose the preceding sentence, the woman rose from her park bench and walked away. I am afraid her secret might never come to light in my lifetime. But my lifetime is not the only one. I will never see her again. I hope she brings some other man's secret face to light, as somebody brought mine. I am startled to discover that I am not afraid. I am free to give a blessing out of my silence into that woman's black hair. I trust her to go on living. I believe in her black hair, her diamond that is still asleep. I would close my eyes to daydream about her. But those silent companions who watch over me from the insides of my eyelids are too brilliant for me to meet face to face.
The very emptiness of the park bench in front of mine is what makes me happy. Somewhere else in Verona at just this moment, a woman is sitting or walking or standing still upright. Surely two careful and accurate hands, total strangers to me, measure the invisible idea of the secret vein in her hair. They are waiting patiently until they know what they alone can ever know: that time when her life will pause in mid-flight for a split second. The hands will touch her black hair very gently. A wind off the river Adige will flutter past her. She will turn around, smile a welcome, and place a flawless and fully formed Italian daybreak into the hands.
I don't have any idea what his face will look like. The light still hidden inside his body is no business of mine. I am happy enough to sit in this park alone now. I turn my own face toward the river Adige. A little wind flutters off the water and brushes past me and returns.
It is all right with me to know that my life is only one life. I feel like the light of the river Adige.
By this time, we are both an open secret.
Verona
poem by James Arlington Wright
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With a bottle in his hand
I see a lightning flash
in the night
and it cuts past flats
and it draws a blue white line,
on its way down
to where it hits a tree
in the old park.
When darkness blinds me,
there’s a cigarette that glows red
and a old man sitting on a bench.
He protests with a bottle in his hand:
“Lord, take your thunder.
Not even God, can stop Kerneels Bester
to take a drink.”
The old man laughs as if mad
and takes a long drink,
before he presses the bottle
into the air.
With the bottle above his head
the man stands against the weather
and like that he still stands,
when the first big drops begin to fall
and I hear another thunder roll.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Paisley Park (remix)
1 2, 1 2 3
Woo!
There is a park that is known 4 the face it attracts
Colorful people whose hair on one side is swept back
The smile on their faces, it speaks of profound inner peace
Ask where they're going, they'll tell U "Nowhere"
They've taken a lifetime lease on Paisley Park
CHORUS:
The girl on the seesaw is laughing
4 love is the color this place imparts (Paisley Park)
Admission is easy, just say U believe
Then come 2 this place in your heart
Paisley Park is in your heart
There is a woman who sits all alone by the pier
Her husband was naughty and caused his wife so many tears
He died without knowing forgiveness and now she is sad, so sad
Maybe she'll come 2 the park and forgive him
And life won't be so bad in Paisley Park
CHORUS
See the man cry as the city condemns where he lives
Memories die but taxes he'll still have 2 give
(Who?) Whoever said that elephants were stronger than mules?
Come 2 the Park and play with us
There aren't any rules in Paisley Park
CHORUS {x2}
(Paisley Park is in, yeah, your heart)
Your heart (Your heart)
Paisley Park
Your heart {x3}
(Say it is in your heart)
Paisley Park {x3
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Katy Brought My Guitar Back Today
Katy brought my guitar back today.
I left it there to play, when I'd stay over.
And I remember all those nights
Sitting in the fireplace light,
And how she loved to hear me play;
Katy brought my guitar back today.
Katy brought my guitar back today.
I've seen it make her cry, over and over.
She told me when I wasn't there,
And she would wake up feelin' scared,
She'd hold it in her arms and be okay;
Katy brought my guitar back today.
We had our stormy times like anybody else;
Oh, more than once I broke her heart.
And when I couldn't tell her I was sorry by myself;
I could tell her with an old guitar.
But, I'm afraid this time things have gone too far.
Katy brought my guitar back today.
I guess that means this time it's really over.
And as I sit and play it now,
The songs all seem so sad, somehow,
I wish that I'd of left it in the case
Katy brought my guitar back today.
And I remember all those nights
Sitting in the fireplace light,
And how she loved to hear me play;
Katy brought my guitar back today...
song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Alleys In The Sky
There are alleys in the sky
And the alleys are in the back of the houses
That God built
So that people could live in the sky
Across from the houses in the sky
Is a huge park
And in that park the kids can play soccer
On the grass
But the grass is always cut at the park in the sky
By God's personal gardener
And God's gardener doesn't use any pesticide on the grass or on the Trees
So the sky is a pesticide free zone that was declared by God
And God is happy to live in a pesticide free world
Also there are no cars in the sky
And the people who live in the sky ride horses
Because horses doesn't pollute the sky like cars do
And the horses are white
Like the clouds.
poem by Aldo Kraas
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The Old Man
The old man sat on a park bench
just watching the people pass by.
He did it day after day
alone in everyone's eyes.
He would smile occasionally
but no one ever knew why.
Everyone who saw him
wondered why he sat so still
and just looked out
at everyone who passed him there.
The old man sat in repose
from dawn until dusk fell.
He sat there in the summer sun
and as winter's bleakness fell.
He looked for some face
he might remember from his past
so they could reminisce for a while.
Sadly, the years slipped away.
Everyone spoke about him,
but no one ventured to talk.
Then one day the old man
wasn't on the park bench
and he was nowhere to be seen.
Now a different question was asked.
Day after day, the bench was empty.
Where had the old man gone?
Had he simply passed away?
The questions remained unanswered
because no one ever stopped
to enquire of his name.
I would like to think
that in the dying hours
on the park bench one day
that he had found
what he was waiting for
and then happily he faded away.
12 July 2012
poem by David Harris
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Part 9 of Trout Fishing in America
SANDBOX MINUS JOHN
DILLINGER EQUALS WHAT?
Often I return to the cover of Trout Fishing in America. I
took the baby and went down there this morning. They were
watering the cover with big revolving sprinklers. I saw some
bread lying on the grass. It had been put there to feed the
pigeons.
The old Italians are always doing things like that. The
bread had been turned to paste by the water and was squashed
flat against the grass. Those dopey pigeons were waiting until
the water and grass had chewed up the bread for them, so
they wouldn't have to do it themselves.
I let the baby play in the sandbox and I sat down on a bench
and looked around. There was a beatnik sitting at the other
end -of the bench. He had his sleeping bag beside him and he
was eating apple turnovers. He had a huge sack of apple turn-
overs and he was gobbling them down like a turkey. It was
probably a more valid protest than picketing missile bases.
The baby played in the sandbox. She had on a red dress
and the Catholic church was towering up behind her red dress.
There was a brick john between her dress and the church. It
was there by no accident. Ladies to the left and gents to the
right.
A red dress, I thought. Wasn't the woman who set John
Dillinger up for the FBI wearing a red dress? They called
her "The Woman in Red. "
It seemed to me that was right. It was a red dress, but so
far, John Dillinger was nowhere in sight. my daughter
played alone in the sandbox.
Sandbox minus John Dillinger equals what?
The beatnik went and got a drink of water from the fountain
that was crucified on the wall of the brick john, more toward
the gents than the ladies. He had to wash all those apple turn-
overs down his throat.
There were three sprinklers going in the park. There was
one in front of the Benjamin Franklin statue and one to the
side of him and one just behind him. They were all turning in
circles. I saw Benjamin Franklin standing there patiently
through the water.
The sprinkler to the side of Benjamin Franklin hit the left-
hand tree. It sprayed hard against the trunk and knocked some
leaves down from the tree, and then it hit the center tree,
sprayed hard against the trunk and more leaves fell. Then it
sprayed against Benjamin Franklin, the water shot out to the
sides of the stone and a mist drifted down off the water. Ben-
jamin Franklin got his feet wet.
The sun was shining down hard on me. The sun was bright
and hot. After a while the sun made me think of my own dis-
comfort. The only shade fell on the beatnik.
The shade came down off the Lillie Hitchcock Colt statue
of some metal fireman saving a metal broad from a mental
fire. The beatnik now lay on the bench and the shade was two
feet longer than he was.
A friend of mine has written a poem about that statue. God-
damn, I wish he would write another poem about that statue,
SO it would give me some shade two feet longer than my body.
I was right about "The Woman in Red, " because ten min-
utes later they blasted John Dillinger down in the sandbox.
The sound of the machine-gun fire startled the pigeons and
they hurried on into the church.
My daughter was seen leaving in a huge black car shortly
after that. She couldn't talk yet, but that didn't make any dif-
ference. The red dress did it all.
John Dillinger's body lay half in and half out of the sand-
box, more toward the ladies than the gents. He was leaking
blood like those capsules we used to use with oleomargarine,
in those good old days when oleo was white like lard.
The huge black car pulled out and went up the street, bat-
light shining off the top. It stopped in front of the ice-cream
parlor at Filbert and Stockton.
An agent got out and went in and bought two hundred
double-decker ice-cream cones. He needed a wheelbarrow
to get them back to the car.
poem by Richard Brautigan
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She Wants To Play Hearts
I am a broken toy
For a lonely girl
Use once and destroy
And go find some more
Back home, kids play in the leaves in the park
She wants to play a game of hearts
I'm the rag doll boy
With broken eyes
She only comes to me
When it's raining outside
Back home, kids play in the leaves in the park
She wants to play a game of hearts
I fell for you
I fell for you
Why?
I guess I wanted to play too.
Here's the lonely string
Playing 'long in my head
For only just my arms
Are dancing marionettes
Back home, kids play in the leaves in the park
And she wants to play a game of hearts
She wants to play a game of hearts
song performed by by Ryan Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sitting On Top Of The World
Well its been a long day but I dont like to moan
Its the middle of summer and Im chilled to the bone
Theres holes in my shoes where the rain comes in
Im sitting on top of the world
Walking in the shadows of empty office blocks
I was talking to a stranger and hes on the rocks
Down on the pavement living in a box
Im sitting on top of the world
Oh no cant anybody see
Its been a bad day and I want a little peace
Oh no wont you please help me
I want to lie down but theres no beds free
Down on the corner theres starry eyed preachers
Rattling cans and pimping jesus
Theres madmen on boxes makig speeches
Im sitting on top of the world
You cant sit in the sunshine or go out after dark
Theres dogs on the loose acting like sharks
Theres psychos on the streets burning winos in the park
Im sitting on top of the world
Oh no I wish I was gone
I want to get going before too long
Oh no I want to leave town
But I cant drive my car cause they put it in the pound
The masters of industry are killing for oil
Theres poison in the air the water and the soil
Were all turning mutant theyre counting up their spoils
Im sitting on top of the world
I turn on the tv and it makes me want to cry
Theres killing and theres torture theres destruction and theres lies
And our leaders talk rubbish and more people die
Im sitting on top of the world
Oh no I cant take anymore
Im shaking all over and my nerves are all raw
Oh no my heads a little sore
I want to get out but I cant find the door
song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lightning Strike
The lighting brings back memories.
The thunder shows my anger.
As the rain washes it away.
the birds fly by, I see my dreams.
As they go home. they're stolen from me.
As the rain washes it away.
The pedal filled with rain drops, I know I'm hurt.
As the rain drops roll off, they're like my tears.
As the rain washes it away.
The clouds are like my soul.
They hide the sun, like I hide my feelings.
As the rain washes it away.
As I sit on my porch,
Watching the rain wash things away.
I see that the storms a lot like me.
poem by Fugly Fool
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Aura
I sit in the black leather chair
meditating
on the plume of smoke that rises
in the air,
riffling the pages of my life
as if it were a book of poems,
flipping through
past & future.
If I go back, back, back,
riding the plume of smoke,
I find I died
in childbirth in another life,
died by fire in the life before that,
died by water twice, or more.
I pick out days
& relive them
as if I were trying on dresses.
When the future beckons,
I follow,
riding another plume of smoke,
feeling the barrier
between skin & air
evaporate,
& my body disappear
like the myth it is.
My cheeks burn against the air,
flaming where two elements collide
& intermingle
becoming one.
Oh explosion at the body's edge!
I live on a ledge of time,
gazing
at the infinite.
poem by Erica Jong
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Growing Up
No-one told me growing up would be this hard baby
No-one told me growing up would be this hard
I can see , I see you sitting down
Why can't you be moving to the front
I can see , I see you sitting down
Why can't you be moving to the front
You told me there's a tomorrow
I don't believe you
You told me that there's time borrow
You never told me enough
Chorus
I can see see I see you sitting down
Why can't you be moving to the front
I can see see I see you sitting down
Why can't you be moving to the front
I am the voice of tomorrow
I make it to the future
So you tell me that I'm supposed to follow
You never told me enough
Chorus
You see the pain I feel
Is this all you've got to say to me
Please don't preach to me
You taught me all you can
But you've got no brain-scan
Your advise is no use to me
Chorus
song performed by by Daniel Bedingfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Black Capricon Day
Hey hey
Hey hey
Let the rain come down on me
Hey, hey, hey, hey
I see people and theyre craving blood
And Im so rarely understood
Well I dont know what they want from me,
Its gonna take sometime just to let them see
Im going through a black, hey capricorn day
And though it doesnt seem so
Im going through a black hey capricorn day
Though you want to check me out
Im not the man to play, play, play, play.
Hey hey
Dont you see Im not the man to play
Hey hey
No way you can play with me today
Hey hey
Just let me sing it to my capricorn day
Hey hey
My heart is a pure sun and the sky is black
And I can feel cold steel when I turn my back
It stings like needles, with a jagged tongue
You know this scream reminds me
Of when I was so young
I never had any of those
Black hey capricorn days
Though it doesnt seem so
Ive got to get this way
Im going through a black hey capricorn day
And though you want to check me out
Im not the man to play, play, play, play
Its just to black for me
Its just too black
Im stuck on the highway
Leading straight to hell
Like any other drifter with a soul to sell
You know Im dealing with the devil
In everyone I meet
And their faces tell a story,
That life aint so sweet
Im going through a black, hey capricorn day
And though it doesnt seem so
Im going through a black hey capricorn day
Though you want to check me out
Im not the man to play, play, play, play.
Hey hey
song performed by by Jamiroquai
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Kids Grown Up
Writers: leo sayer & frank farrell
Southdown motor co
2a bus
You can see right inside
My parents house
Sitting at the table and my dinners up
Its gonna be different when
The kids grown up
Gonna save some money
And quit this job
Light the way
Clear the stage
The kids grown up
Used to play in the underground
Hyde park
Now Im riding in a limousine
Through the underpass
Im sitting in an aeroplane
Its all such a rush
People all around me making
So much fuss
And Ive got a little money
But it aint gonna burn me up
If Im in your town
Tonight I am -- watch out
The kids grown up
song performed by by Leo Sayer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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