The Little Puppet
The little puppet sits on the shelf
staring at me through his glass eyes
I wonder what he sees,
are my troubles fascinating to him?
His jaw opens from time to time
I wish he tell me something.
Funny or sad
maybe even a sonnet or two
All he does is gape
spy on me and pass silent judgement.
How I really hate that thing!
poem by Nicholas Abaddon

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Sisterly Flaws
I hate you.
I hate when we laugh,
I hate when we stay up late, as I am always tired.
I hate the way you take me places,
and include me in your fun,
I hate the way you say you love me,
and ask me to go for a run.
I hate when you jump out and scare me,
I hate when you make bad jokes.
I hate when you want some sisterly time,
I hate when you ask me to pull your finger.
I hate when we go for a walk,
I hate when you embarass me,
I hate when we reminise.
I hate when you make a mess, and then yell out it was Dave.
I hate when you want to write a song with me.
I hate that you are shorter then me
I hate that your jokes arent funny.
Just one last thing I'd like to say,
did you remember,
ITS OPPOSITE DAY?
poem by Dakota Ellerton

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Time Re Written
Time goes fast
Time goes slow
Time sees love ones pass
Time sees the living grow
Time finds it hard to forget
Time can store up treasures and sorrows, and very hard to let go...
Time rushes fast
Time stops and starts
Time is shown by nights turn into days
Time makes all the seasons change
Time is going slowly at times but
Time can race you across the line
Time awaits for you to have peace but
Time can also hide sadness deep
Time is sometimes patient
Time can be kind
Time often cruel and
Time can be so so unkind
Time is a second
Time is minute, hour, even days and months
Time is not possible for us to keep
But right now...I wish time will not pass me by
Nor it slip back into yesterday day...
For i have much to look forward
In Time...and much more afar
I am certain now that
Time is a precious thing and will bring along amazing things...
Time...more time...and much much time
And somehow i feel a bit lost at this...
Time
Perhaps only when the dark night comes at long last
I will stop thinking about
Time
For time will no longer matter then
And only then... until then
Each second, Every minute...Even hour and all these Endless days
Bientôt mon chéri, venez à moi
poem by AngelLucianna Vesna

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It's Funny
It's funny how happy is accompanied with sad,
It's funny how your best of friends can sometimes turn out bad.
It's funny how sometimes we only ever feel at home,
It's funny how that time is sometimes when were alone.
It's funny how the best people in your life don't always turn out great,
It's funny how your friends don't always pull their weight.
But the one thing that is the best,
The one thing that beats the rest,
And the only thing that it could be,
Is that none of this is funny to me.
poem by Flying Fishstick

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Wife to Be (Petrarchan Sonnet)
I stroll along a fragrant country lane
With honeysuckle perfume on the air -
And feathered crooner's warble to revere -
Then cross a golden sea of flowing grain
In empathy - it seems to sense my pain
Of knowing all was done with my affair -
Her empty meaning now the solitaire
She cast away - betrothment all in vain.
But oceans team with many fish to catch
So I must up and hoist another sail
And seek the one that really waits for me,
For soon auspicious breezes will prevail
In guiding forth to find a truer match:
The one to take my hand as wife to be.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
ma rriage
marriage marriage
marriage marriage marriage
marriage marriage marriage marriage
marriage marriage marriage marriage marriage
marriage marriage marriage marriage marriage sonnet
sonnet sonnet sonnet sonnet sonnet sonnet sonnet
sonnet sonnet sonnet sonnet sonnet sonnet
sonnet sonnet sonnet sonnet sonnet
sonnet sonnet sonnet sonnet
sonnet sonnet sonnet
sonnet sonnet
sonnet
poem by Mark R Slaughter

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The Patient Mental
Patient,
Just as I am,
As always,
Watch the time go by,
Nothing left to pass by,
The minutes follow me,
Drunken little people,
Work away in me,
Why wont they leave me, leave me alone
When I dont even want me, want me
I have to, kill the words,
Before they, form my sentence,
The sentence that is me,
Judged by those that carry
The patient sits in cradled arms
That comfort me by strangling
Why wont they leave me, leave me alone
When I dont even want me,
The patient mental sits and stares
An idle mind thats empty, screaming
Staring back
Why wont they leave him, leave him alone
A passive speared ritual
Drive by our war ship...the hate driven envy
They have to kill the meal,
Before they can consume,
Consume my inner peace,
Without the understanding,
Trapped inside the works,
The hands are moving me
The patient mental sits and stares
An idle mind thats empty, screaming
Staring back
Why wont they leave him, leave him alone
A passive speared ritual
Drive by our war ship...the hate driven envy
Release me,
Let me go,
Why do they observe me?
Theres nothing here to cure,
I can see the silhouettes,
That sit behind the mirror
Im just like a clock upon the wall
Always moving, but never going anywhere
The patient mental sits and stares
An idle mind thats empty, screaming
Staring back
Why wont they leave him, leave him alone
A passive speared ritual
Drive by our war ship...the hate driven envy
song performed by by Mudvayne

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hypothetical Departures
the kettle is not
in its proper place
grains of rice
scattered on the
path
no birds pecking
this time
the cat on the fence
is keen
but helpless
leaves in heaps
there is no wind this time
i think about
burning
the curtains are
unmoved
dusts settle
layered
there is a story
to tell
the archeologists
are not bringing their
brushes
of history
even the winds
if you taste them
are bitter
when the gate opens
this time
no hand shall open it
again
a woman sits
staring blankly to a humid
morning
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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Cement
Its funny how I watch the day go by
Im sitting watching tv
Talk shows high
Theres banging on the walls
My head aches
Im drinking out the world
That I hate
I had a big car, new clothes everything
Ive had a watch engraved in switzerland
Today I saw her buying a magazine
Its time to get myself some therapy
How do I stop this, how do I stop this
How do I stop this disease?
Chorus:
Shes got a new dress on (Im in cement)
Sits by her radio (Im in cement)
Shes got those x-ray eyes (Im in cement)
Dont know which way to go
Its funny but I dream for yesterday
Im blistered by the burns that life has made
Im staring out behind the window shade
I see her face across the street again
Im in quicksand sinking in again
Ive got concrete shoes and I cant swim
How do I stop this, how do I stop this
How do I stop this disease?
Chorus
I dont know what to do
But I know that I must pull through
I cant keep watching you
How do I stop this, how do I stop this
How do I stop this disease?
Chorus
song performed by by Feeder

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Like a little boy
Like a little boy
he wants to play
with the rescue and fire helmets
and opens the glass cabinet
where they are stored.
Time and time again
the fire alarm rings
and they are testing
the noisy thing.
Even if smoke rises
people may still think
that they are just testing
some thing.
I wonder what that big
little boy will do,
when a real fire occur?
Will it still be a game,
will he know what to do
and act in time
or will he just run for the door?
poem by Gert Strydom

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Wallflower
I remember when I was young,
the wallflower I used to be.
I would sit and watch
others gaze into each other’s eyes,
seeing the passion burning there.
All the time I was thinking,
will this ever happen to me?
Many times, I tried to excerpt myself,
and for my effort
received questioning stares.
Who is this weirdo?
Where did he come from?
It was a frustrating time, for this wallflower,
who on the shelf would remain.
I had no chat up lines,
only a pen and pad,
everyone who looked at me,
must have thought that I was mad.
I’d go to a party on the odd occasion I was invited,
sit in the corner on my own.
No one would talk to the odd man out.
Therefore, I would leave,
just the way I had come,
no one on my arm,
for that lonely trek home.
All the time I wondered,
is this the way my life is going to be.
A wallflower on a lonely shelf.
Shyness is an awful thing,
and it is very lonely.
For friends seem so very few.
I found out much later.
That I just had to let myself go.
Much to my surprise in doing it.
I was no longer a wallflower on a lonely shelf.
poem by David Harris

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Funny Chrismas!
Funny Christmas, thats what I'm s'posed to be writing about here?
Well, I don't really know what to write about that will make it funny.
What is funny about Christmas?
Santa is just a big ol' fat jolly man who just sits around eating cooking and drinking milk all year. Whats funny about that?
The reindeer are just deer who can supposedly fly. I don't get it.
What is funny about Christmas?
Is it the fact that we are s'posed to act happy and pretend we're having fun when we're really not?
I don't really get it can you explain it to me please?
What is funny about Christmas?
I don't really even believe in the whole 'Christmas celebration' thing.
I don't understand why people think that its funny either. Can you tell me?
What is funny about Christmas?
poem by Courtney Mayer

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Funny Thing
A funny thing to do
Is everyone like you
'Cause people seldom change
They all just stay the same
A funny htin to say
Suppose you're just that way
Although you're sure you're sure
There really is no cure
A funny kind of way
A funny kind of day
You're funny all the time
Do you want a piece of mine
Cause I've seen it all before
When you're closing all the doors
It's not funny anymore
A funny thing to do
Because the sky was blue
You ran away for good
Cause no one understood
The funny things you said
Because the sky was red
A funny kind of way
A funny kind of day
You're funny all the time
Do you want a piece of mine
Cause I've seen it all before
When you're closing all the doors
It's not funny anymore
A funny kind of way
A funny kind of day
You're funny all the time
Do you want a piece of mine
Cause I've seen it all before
When you're closing all the doors
It's not funny anymore
A funny thing to do
Is everyone like you
Cause people seldom change
They all just stay the same
song performed by by Travis from Good Feeling

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That's The Way I Always Heard It Should Be
My father sits at night with no lights on
His cigarette glows in the dark
The living room is still
I walk by, no remark
I tiptoe past the master bedroom where
My mother reads her magazines
I hear her call sweet dreams
But I forgot how to dream
But you say it's time we moved in together
And raised a family of our own, you and me
Well, that's the way I've always heard it should be
You want to marry me, we'll marry
My friends from college they're all married now
They have their houses and their lawns
They have their silent noons
Tearful nights, angry dawns
Their children hate them for the things they're not
They hate themselves for what they are
And yet they drink, they laugh
Close the wound, hide the scar
But you say it's time we moved in together
And raised a family of our own, you and me
Well, that's the way I've always heard it should be
You want to marry me, we'll marry
You say we can keep our love alive
Babe, all I know is what I see
The couples cling and claw
And drown in love's debris
You say we'll soar like two birds through the clouds
But soon you'll cage me on your shelf
I'll never learn to be just me first
By myself
Well O.K., it's time we moved in together
And raised a family of our own, you and me
Well, that's the way I've always heard it should be,
You want to marry me, we'll marry
We'll marry
song performed by by Carly Simon

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Afternoon
As he writes, without looking at the sea,
he feels the tip of his pen begin to tremble.
The tide is going out across the shingle.
But it isn't that. No,
it's because at that moment she chooses
to walk into the room without any clothes on.
Drowsy, not even sure where she is
for a moment. She waves the hair from her forehead.
Sits on the toilet with her eyes closed,
head down. Legs sprawled. He sees her
through the doorway. Maybe
she's remembering what happened that morning.
For after a time, she opens one eye and looks at him.
And sweetly smiles.
Anonymous submission.
poem by Raymond Clevie Carver

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Isn`t it funny
Isn't it funny?
How your forbidden heart is the one desired
Isn't it funny?
How one can fall in a moment
Isn't it funny?
How i never believed it would be on first sight
And yet now, i am a victim of it
Isn't it funny?
How you have awakened what was long dead
How you have revived what was long gone
Isn't it funny?
How 2 hearts can be one in a moment
How eyes can talk
And yet seem silent
Isn't it funny?
How a smile comes out
Just from a word read.
Isn't it funny?
How i wish to be lost in your arms
How i wish it would be
Isn't it funny?
How i am head over heels
And still feel like i am falling
Isn't it funny?
That you aren't here
And yet i want you next to me.
poem by Bothwell Tinashe Murindagomo

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My Old Flame
Arthur johnson / sam coslow
My old flame
I cant even think of his name
But its funny now and then
How my thoughts go flashing back again
To my old flame
My old flame
My new lovers all seem so tame
For I havent met a gent
So innocent or elegant
As my old flame
Ive met so many men
With fascinating ways
A fascinating gaze in their eyes
Som who sent me up to the skies
But their attempts at love
Were only imitations of
My old flame
I cant even think of his name
But Ill never be the same
Untill I discover what became
Of my old flame
Ive met so many men
With fascinating ways
A fascinating gaze in their eyes
Som who sent me up to the skies
But their attempts at love
Were only imitations of
My old flame
I cant even think of his name
But Ill never be the same
Untill I discover what became
Of my old flame
song performed by by Billie Holiday

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All I Hate About You
Dedicated to Natalie and everyone who's hearts been broken
I hate that I fell for you
I hate that you left me
I hate that you hate me
I hate that you don’t care
I hate that you wanted this
I hate your smiles
I hate your laugh
I hate your jokes
I hate your friends
I hate you exes
I hate that I would die if I didn’t see you smile just one more time
I hate how this isn’t your fault and its mine
I hate how my friends lie to me telling me it’s yours
I hate that I ever met you
I hate how I would have never changed a thing
poem by Jackie Emley

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At Rest
my garden is silent...
and all the bees have sacrificed
their very beings to the unmarked graves
of flowers fallen.
the squirrels left the trees
like lovers spurned...
and small birds left feathers
in way of epitaph.
in some ways autumn tastes like
the bruise on my lips,
that you left the last time you kissed me,
the one no one can see!
the old car in the drive,
the one that wont crank,
moans in the rust of betrayel.
there are things i couldnt write,
or even speak for a long time.
it's funny how free you feel,
with a noose around your neck!
funny how sharp your eyes become,
on the very edge of darkness.
funny the sound tears make,
the ones we cry inside.
the creaking of the door,
that opens into unknown.
the way the hand feels,
when it throbs for touch.
by the way i saw Jesus today,
with a basket in the store...
standing in line to pay with food stamps,
talking to a bent over old woman.
and Aristotle and Plato,
picking up trash in the parking lot...
perhaps that was Rilke sweeping,
or just a stray dog.
and the young boy walking
down the road and singing....
perhaps that was my heart,
trying to remember your face!
or perhaps it's just me,
listening for the sound of your feet.
my garden is silent....
my soul is at rest!
poem by Eric Cockrell

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I Hate That Time
I Hate that time
When you hurt me
I Hate that time
When you ignore me
I Hate that time
When you tease me
I Hate that time
When you laugh on me
I Hate that time
When you kidding me
I Hate that time
When you make me upset
I Hate that time
When I Love you
poem by Kaitreena Stwert

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I Hate (pleas read and vote! ! !)
I hate the way you make me feel,
I hate that you think you can read my mind,
I hate crying over you,
I hate that you say you care but you don't,
I hate the way you talk to me,
I hate the way you snap over little thing's,
I hate that you don't trust me more over then
someone who did worse then I,
I hate being a prisoner and a segregate mother,
I hate that I can't breath around you with out getting
yelled at.
I hate being accused of eating to much when I only eat
1 or 2 meals a day,
I hate of thinking of pro's and con's of living with you,
I hate of being a scrub,
I hate that I hate of being in this apartment that I live in,
I hate being so unhappy,
I hate that I'm about to cry right now,
I hate being a closed curtain,
I hate being the least favorite,
I hate that I hate my body because you criticize me about it,
I hate how you feel when you come home,
I hate of being scared of the time when I'm with friends,
I hate that I think your hiding me,
I hate that I love being invisible sometimes,
I hate that I'm sorry for hating,
and I hate that I hate.
poem by Melissa Schreuder

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The Mayor Of The Town
at first he offers you a basket of bread
perhaps he knows that you are hungry not having eaten for a day
you touch one, tear it, and have yourself a fill
it is fine
you exchange ideas
laugh at matters which both of you think funny
he offers a drink and you take a glass
thinking that this guy must be sincere in helping you away from hunger and thirst
you sleep soundly the whole night
and the following morning he comes to you again
bringing some strings and you think this must be a way to
strengthen bonds
then he speaks about a puppet and you do not like it
and he burst into anger
that is the end of the political affair
you do not want to be that puppet on a string.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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