En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Hound Of Bloody Night

There were a few villagers walking around at night
They heard a Howl from the Bloody Night Woods
They had no clue what could have made such a dreadful, shuddering shriek.

But as soon as they could realize what it was
It was too late.

A few days later the remaining villagers found the last remains the ignorant villagers.
The town sheriff said a few words of prayer to the remains of the young man at the looks of it. Then to the young baby. And last the priest.

As soon as they realized it was getting dark the last of the people who stayed and were possibly the family of the people were then gone as well for they didn’t here the howl.

poem by Nico Janik
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Villagers

Pop/du prey
The villagers are out tonight
Uptight and bored
Theyre pushing you
Underground
On wintry days they stand and gaze
Outlines in black and ignorant
Villagers
Dark shadows house a sleepy malice
In the backbrain
Of every body you meet
Man is the village animal
United by the glue
Of our loathsome qualities
We are sneaking peeping toms
In revolt against each other
The villagers are most insane
They live to die anonymous
And muted to... villagers
In revolt against the other
But not against the rules
So in the space age the village idiot rules
On tv for all to see while some good men
Walk the streets
Unh unh unh unh unh
The villagersssssss arghhh
You cant get lost you cant get lost
In the village of space you cant get lost

song performed by by Iggy Pop
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Cannibal and Dhieu

Lion cannibal came
With three cubs
In evening to Dhieu home
Hide in shade of cattle byre
When wife took cooked bean to
Dhieu In byre
Cannibal attacked her
She poured down bean
She cried
Dhieu came out of byre
Cannibal attacked him too
Within three minutes Dhieu and
His wife were dead
Villagers rushed in
Cannibal and three cubs ran away
In dry season
Rainmaker was called in
To make rain
Rain poured that night
In morning, villagers moved out
In forest for big hunt for cannibal
Villagers moved for three hours in
Forest until they found
Claw prints in mud of cannibal and cubs
They followed claw prints for four hours
In hedge, found lion and cubs
Men killed cubs
But father lion ran away
Villagers chased him for six hours
Lion went got tired on Nyangdit pond
Entered hedge
Men surrounded Nyangdit
Moved in to kill lion
They never found him
Searched hedge on pond
And never found any traces
Of cannibal lion
When men about to leave
One man saw big non poisonous
Ghoor snake, He said ‘’ isn’t lion
that change Like this’’ and
he hit one eye of
Ghoor snake off
Snake eye watered down
But he didn’t kill snake
Because it non poison’s
In fact, it’s lion that metamorphosed
In snake
After men left lion metamorphosed
Back to lion and left for Juba town
When he saw men from Dhieu’s village
He sang
‘’ I destroy home of Dhieu by bit cunning
I attack wife, she poured down bean
I ate wife and husband by by bit cunning’’
When people put down ears to hear
He changed song and sang
‘’ my triplets remained at Nyangdit pond
My brothers
I am childless’’

poem by David Aoloch Bion
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

041410f Eat, Drink And Clean Up

men are helping conductor to load up
my bag is still hanging there innocently
villagers came with trinkets and food
they are selling, boiled corn, sweet
potato, banana, chicken on stick, drinks
they are buying, it must be good but me

we have rested almost twenty minutes
their faces are brighter now than few
minutes ago, villagers also made money
i also wash my face; still brown thru n thru
i didn't tried their food nor their drinks
i have my orange juice bottle and sandwich

poem by Manonton Dalan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A Howl of the Night

A howl can be herd in the night as the snow falls
A howl can run through and enter the soul of
The wolf who's heart is as pure as the grain
A howl shall show no mercy and shall either hunt you
Or guide you, It will be strong and hard -the howl of the night.
The howl shall come from the spirit of the strongest,
The bravest and the boldest.
It will not be weak, as the wind carries the howl farther
To the Pack, all will awaken and cry with
The howl of the night.

poem by Rebecca Seetahal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A night with her beauty

A night with her beauty

It was a icy night and
i was very near to her
It was a bank of a river and
we were alone of that bank
We talked in our silence and
enjoyed that night by watching
that night slipped in to dawn
Still we didn’t have any motion
We were in the world of romance
where the moon and stars were very near to us
Sun came on the sky and
sent his heat to separate us
We were still in our eyes and
our hearts and minds failed to realize
The changes happened around us
We were still as a picture
Up to the arrival of villagers
I was with her beauty and
she was with my love
We were mingled in love and
went to a new world of romance

poem by Sakthi Ravichandran
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Love Unrequested

The lady across the road had beautiful grey hair, thick and
glossy, I admired her mane because she was eighty five.
Her hubby about her same aged died, I attended the funeral,
open casket, in death he looked handsome, old man asleep.
When people get old some do not realize how old they are,
and the old lady, since I had admired her lovely hair, thought
we could be a couple; only I was fifty two at the time and not
overly interested. The lady took offence felt humiliated since
she already had told the villagers I loved her.
A day when I was doing a bit of weeding around the house
She came out; called me a womanizer hit me with her umbrella.
Well I´m not heroic, fled into the house and bolted the door;
and the villagers were greatly amused. She moved to a rest
home and I could go out without being assaulted. I read in
the paper she had just died at hundred and five, but I will not
attend her funeral….I think.

poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The nebulous house abandon; But some live in

No doors and windows in the Mews
Mystery wind peeps and departs
And nothing remains.
But the rusty padlock
Still at the gate.
The rumour spreads among the villagers
Smoke goes to the sky in the night
From the bricked chimney
And smells roasted turkey
While a sad neigh echoes.
An officer goes for the Census
But the gate is locked at all.

* Those who grabs the perishable life never leaves?

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Hounds Howl At Night (Reprise)

The hounds howl at night
Because evil is here
The hounds howl at night
For the terror that will soon begin
The hounds howl at night
For the blackness of the night
The hounds howl at night
For their love of the crescent moon
Even though it's shrouded in fog

poem by Justin Gildow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Into The Woods was... a lot of running around in the woods! I can't wait to see the show again. People didn't realize it back then, but kids still come up to me-young people-and they talk about it. It really made its mark.

quote by Bernadette Peters
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

A New Footnote To Howl

Howl for the dollar suckers, the shake amarni makers
Howl for the rolex souls with their calls to Frankfurt
Howl for the poets who quote in Italian who don`t know how to laugh
Howl for the ice children waiting for buses
Howl for the mobiles with cheap words full of soap
Howl for sons who drive to funerals in cabrios
Howl for the droners who giggle when killing
Howl for moons falling into beer-sodden parks
Howl for kid angels sorting junk in the morning
Howl for gods who wear pictures on their arms
Howl for bombers chasing whores in the sky
Howl for the motherless kissing tins in supermarkets
Howl for the acid faced brides of a lost country

Howl for the pissers, the quick fixers and the holy drinkers
praying on pavements.

Holy occupy holy resistance holy lennon holy allen holy
ernesto and all the prophets who know that
everybody is truth, let them be blessed for
the hard days to come. moving.

poem by Leslie Philibert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A bullock cart from Malacca

Long and winding road
with patches and holes
The holes which sometimes
turned into small ponds,
every time
after a heavy downpour
You can no longer smell the tar
on a hot burning day
The road was too old
even the town council named it
the road to cemetery
A rural town
occupied by
Malay farmers,
rubber tapers
and pensioners
living in kampong

An enormous green paddy field
spreaded in the middle,
next to the road
Sandwiched by villager’s
Meranti wooden Atap houses.
To get to the town
walk your way
cycling
don’t miss the bus
or you have to wait
for another hour to get one
(you can take a pirate taxis that operate in odd hours)
Small streams crossed
at the center of the rice fields
The streams that supplied enough
fresh water fishes
for the villagers to consume
Vegetables are grown
like mushrooms
covering most of front and backyards
Fruits farm aplenty and became
local delights
whenever the season comes

Every house had their well,
as deep as 10 meter
with cold fresh water
being channeled from the nearby hills
The vast green land
were also scattered
with cows, goats, sheeps and buffalos
owned by the villagers.
In the evening
images of small kids
riding on buffalo's back
on the way to their homes
is a typical scene,
which needs to be captured
on films
for nostalgic reasons.

In the misty morning
where dawn had just breakout
villagers throwing
dried corns,
rice to the grounds
hungry poultry
feeds their way through.
School going kids
walked 3 miles to school,
cutting through plantations,
paddy field
for the shorten route.
The sound of azan
(calls for prayers five times a day required by Muslims)
Echoed from the surau and mosque,
could be heard across the village.

To own a vehicle is luxury
Bullock cart (wagon pulled by cows)
Was used in redundant
ferrying firewood,
rice sacks,
for shipment
to the town
sometimes ferrying villagers
to attend weddings
in the neighborhood
or just a bunch of cheerful kids
who like to have a ride
around the kampong.
I remembered
I was having a great time
taking a ride on this bullock cart
owned by grandfather,
going to town
whenever I paid him a visit.
I was 8 years old
Riding the time of my life
Befriended the bulls
Bonded
And sacred

Well, no matter how far I traveled
Having to live in big cities
Like London and New York,
The reminiscent of being part of kampong’s folk
riding the Bullock Cart
will still and forever (which I hope)
stayed remains in my mind
Thanks folks
for the memories.

poem by Sulaiman Mohd Yusof
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A howl in the moon

A howl in the moon
a lonley wolf
crying for
someone
to come
to rescue
to help him
alone in the woods
in the deepest of
the dark
in the deepest of the night
a howl in the moon

poem by Marisa Anaya
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

What I've Realize

Baby, what I've realize, i hope I haven't realized it to late
for I have realized how much i love you
Baby, I've realized, I would be lost without you
I've realized you are my everything
I've realized how precious you are to me
You and the kids are my priority

I will never jeopardize my family ever again
I wish you could see, see inside me
baby, I am being truthful, I wish you could see
see inside me

I've seen how much my deceitfulness have hurt you
I swear, my soul aches, I am in pain
for every time you look at me, you look at me
with an empty stare, perhaps its hate

Baby, i wish you could see inside, inside of me
My heart is full of pain because all this time
I thought you didn't care about me
and I didn't consider you, your feelings, or our family

Baby, oh Baby,
I wish you could see, see inside me
for I really am sorry and I will never hurt you again.

Baby please, give us a chance
if you looked inside me and let go of
the brick wall you would see clearly
see clearly that I love you
and you would see how I am hurting
for hurting you and our kids.

poem by Topazio Salgado
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Giorno dei Morti

Along the avenue of cypresses,
All in their scarlet cloaks and surplices
Of linen, go the chanting choristers,
The priests in gold and black, the villagers. . .

And all along the path to the cemetery
The round dark heads of men crowd silently,
And black-scarved faces of womenfolk, wistfully
Watch at the banner of death, and the mystery.

And at the foot of a grave a father stands
With sunken head, and forgotten, folded hands;
And at the foot of a grave a mother kneels
With pale shut face, nor either hears nor feels

The coming of the chanting choristers
Between the avenue of cypresses,
The silence of the many villagers,
The candle-flames beside the surplices.

poem by David Herbert Lawrence
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Young Man

Written by james young
Lead vocals by james young
People say with age there comes experience
But as soon as you are born you start to die
Older men are chosen to speak wisely
But call the child to the sacrificial rite
Who can we get to win the fight?
Young man!
Who can we get to make love all night?
Young man!
Who do we send away to die?
Young man!
I heard a lonely woman cry for a
Young man!
The fire bombs in distant lands are burning
Jarring every synapse in your soul
Life and death are a meaningless profession
Tomorrow brings a horror yet untold
Who can we get to win the fight?
Young man!
Who can we get to make love all night?
Young man!
Who do we send away to die?
Young man!
I heard a lonely woman cry for a
Young man!
Young man!
Young man!
Come home my son
We'll give you a rest
Welcome my son
We'll give you the best
Time's stowaway
The young man
Short are the days
Of the young man
Young man!
Young man!

song performed by by Styx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Service of all the Dead

Between the avenues of cypresses,
All in their scarlet cloaks, and surplices
Of linen, go the chaunting choristers,
The priests in gold and black, the villagers.

And all along the path to the cemetery
The round, dark heads of men crowd silently
And black-scarved faces of women-folk, wistfully
Watch at the banner of death, and the mystery.

And at the foot of a grave a father stands
With sunken head, and forgotten, folded hands;
And at the foot of a grave a woman kneels
With pale shut face, and neither hears not feels

The coming of the chaunting choristers
Between the avenues of cypresses,
The silence of the many villagers,
The candle-flames beside the surplices.

poem by David Herbert Lawrence
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A Ferryman and His Blind Dog!

Villagers were certain that he died a long ago
But I met him last night at the river bank.
Though his dog's blind wagged its tail
While I was talking to ferryman.
He said the Blacksmith his old friend has borrowed the ferry
To bring his forgotten tools but he's scared
Whether he could row safely to this side
As the weather was not so good?
Then I said I am going back home
And he gave his kind regards to my parents.
On the way I realized that my parents were no more
And all were in the same boat!

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Shame On Humanity

'Pray God that you in next birth you remain childless'
The pain and agony was clearly seen on the villager's face
They had brought one old widow lady from the village
To her nephew's house when fell sick due to old age

The nephew shouted 'I don't know her please take back'
The villagers were shocked and taken a back
It was bolt from the blue and totally inhuman
He was directly descendent and related to old woman

We were all taken by surprise and lamented
He was unmoved and not in any way resented
It was an end of humanity and had lost all the relevance
He did not look back to old lady and left the place at once

I saw the death fear in old lady and just wept
She had given all her property to him and nothing was kept
It with only with one hope that he may take her care in old age
Where as he had inherited everything and now ended the bondage

The villagers were innocent and had brought lady in good faith
Now she was lying in taxi and waiting for last breath and death
I was watched her with so much of helplessness
The betrayal caused by nephew was clearly reflecting on face

The villagers provided her all relief by gracefully saying
'Remember almighty and wish that you have no such son staying away'
All people, who surrounded old woman, silently cursed
That nephew had no mercy at heart and failed to nurse

I came to know later on that old lady died on the way
But she had no remorse for her being pushed away
She had brought up that man when his parent had died
He was brought up with all the care but lastly he lied

What we comment on such behavior?
When person comes down so lower
Lower in thinking and with mean mentality
Certainly we can feel shame on humanity

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Shopping at the Mall

People! Me, looking at People.
People, looking at me.
Old people, trying to look young.
Young people, trying to look old.
Walking, talking, laughing people.
fuzzy, frowsy, sober people.
tipsy, tip-toesy, striding people.
people's people.
Walking in protective units
of sobriety and gaiety,
merriment, wonder, and awe.
All kinds of people.
My people

poem by Joyce Williams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Too Late

It was like yesterday when we was walking on the park.

But in the end she left me in the dark.

At night where on sunny days I never feel so bright.

I guess I was too late to get you back.

I was so dumb I wish our sweet love could last like stride gum.

I was too late to fix the mistake that I break.

I was too late like a baby duck trying to keep up with his family on a lake.

I was too late to get the last cake.

I made a promise that I thought I wouldn't break.

I try my best to try not to make you cry for my sake.

All this pain I couldn't take and I want you back because you was treasure.

And I didn't mean to let our love fall off like a feather.

I want to be able to make you feel better like good weather.

And keep you safe like shelter.

It kills me to not get you back because every girl I see is not like you.

To me you was something special now that I realize.

You kept me up from my lows to my highs.

I didn't really see it, I was so blind.

And now im losing time.

As I'm sinking in sand I just wish I had a chance to hold your hand again.

It been a week and I haven't speak a word

Your voice is so beautiful as a singing bird.

I love the way you had my phone buzzing like a hummingbird.

I wish I gave you something better that you deserved.

But I was too late.

poem by Anteaus Berryhill
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!