En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Their Happenstance's Gold

Impoverished bodies- you roam, as wolves reintroduced
Themselves into your abandoned home:
Your wives, your daughter- forgotten and swimming inside
Pools,
And sloping down from there: canals, and canals-
Lost toys floating away-
Cenotaphs of conquistadors half dredged up- languidness of
Pain and broken chastity:
Girls on roller skates who once hoped to make their own
Music in the rain,
Now with scabbed knees, weeping weeping, head down
In the palmettos- taking sips form flasks of the
Half escaped dwarfs:
Latin graffiti on their broken down bodies- tattoos of never
Found boyfriends
And windmills:
And looking up there, funneling across the soccer field
That some poor Mexican just mowed:
More of the horror coming down the yard, souping up the song
Birds, killing away the hours,
Peeling away their innocent flowers, their happenstance’s gold.

poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Football Games of Your Tomorrow

Kind of candlestick in the mud-
Hoary light in the swamp
Turning undone,
As the housewives moan like alley cats in their
Beds of predestination:
As they seem for awhile lost, pill bugs underneath
The covers,
As their pools glow altogether as if infected diamonds-
And their canals move slower
Filled to the brim with narcoleptic mermaids
And the fabershe cenotaphs of likeminded conquistadors:
See how the moon glowers over their
Strange visage swimming in the mud:
Each one with a candle undone just beneath the skim-
As the tadpoles dance
Innocent of what they will become,
And the minnows wander around aimlessly perhaps
Dreaming of the footballs games of your tomorrow.

poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Day Is Done

nuclear fission, sins of omission,
hide your eyes, buy the lies!
hearts gone numb, minds struck dumb,
the flesh dies, stink and flies.
roll down the window, just past tomorrow,
trading souls, fighting for control.
politicians kiss and tell, on the road to hell,
the fire gone cold, nothing left to hold.

broken down, running on empty.
packs of wolves roam the cities.
children's bodies down in the alleys,
nowhere to run, day is done!
nowhere to run, day is done!

the curse of invasion, profitable occasions.
fly the flag, drums and bodybags.
different shades and colors, forgotten brothers,
it's easier to kill, than it is to feel!
the cries and the voices, ghosts of our choices,
rome burns, with every turn!
poverty's needle, almost inconceivable,
blood on the hands, blood on the hands.

broken down, running on empty.
packs of wolves roam your cities.
children's bodies down in the alleys,
nowhere to run, day is done!
nowhere to run, day is done!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Broken Dreams

I don’t see a long road ahead of me
And my coffee cup, instead of been half full
It’s always half empty

I got no home
I’m on the streets
An in the cold lonely morning
I’m awaken by somebodys cries an screams

All I’ve got left is my broken dreams

My past's erased from my memory
Anyone I knew before
Never cared enough to contact me

I’ve lost my friends
I’ve lost my family
My life’s falling apart
It’s coming loose at the seems

All I’ve got left is my broken dreams

The dreams I used to dream
When I was a kid
Never left my heart
But I never did them, I never lived

So now I cry into my glass
To try an make it full
I’m crying lost rivers an lost streams

All I’ve got left is my broken dreams

poem by Lucy Vernezze
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Day Is Make Believe

The waves seem to be learning how to fly,
Or just getting up so that they can try:
Yawning like blue eggs brought to the lips,
Overeasy breakfasts of the sun-
Bicycles sunken in their breasts- the complex jewels
That kids lose while playing-
Knees scabbed by slathering kisses, like tears
That good girls give in a swimming sorority:
Blowing kisses across a sunken street where fireworks
Are swimming on holiday;
And you have to keep your head up to see the forts
Floating up in the sky: they were made to be that way,
Like smoking from the bereaving day-
And little dead angels in those halls pinwheel in the
Attractions in which they find themselves,
And laughing giddily as the soft movement is somehow
Rushed through the shallows- taking your hands up to the side of
The sun, because you are my muse- and
As I am watching you, that is how you learn to pray;
And the day is make-believe, and so am I.

poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Dead Dont Cry

the dead dont cry,
they weep...
for the undone deeds
of the living...
for the work not finished,
the cup left half-empty,
the song that no one heard.

for the deaf ears,
and the blinded eyes.
for the callous heart,
the spirit left in chains.

for the house half finished,
and the home abandoned.
for the love left holding
the purse, and the scar!

for the holy child
born out of wedlock...
for the table left empty,
the chairs that long and pine.

for the touch that failed,
the quivering lip unseen.
for the pot left empty,
and the fire untended.

for the bodies walking
who have no face...
for the latched door,
and the candle unlit...

the dead dont cry,
they weep...
and the sound of their weeping
shakes the earth!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How My Story Goes

Walking out in the roses and the waves
Not knowing where I am,
And you not knowing why you feel the need
To bring your body so near to me
When your eyes are so far away,
Engorging.
And the mountains are filled with evil spirits
While Pedro takes off his close,
And the Christmas trees sleep like starving conquistadors
Fearing that they have been brought too
Far into the wilds of the state of Florida,
Beautiful men so full of turquoise thrills.
Men on roller-skates,
Men slinging the news to girls who live in their mothers
And fathers trailer parks,
Girls who always go out tattooed and runny like liquid
Throws,
Who know the cries of unbowed rebels,
And who sing once they have their Christmas tree decorated
In their tin cans,
And the canals flow so torpidly while two boys
Skip school
Underneath the crenulations where the Florida holies grow,
And the foundling tiger opens its eyes
And seeing the shade through the chirping canopy
Thinks it the pinstripes of its luscious mother,
Superimposed and handsome he closes his eyes
Again and dreams the dreams of a young
And handsome tiger out back behind the rows,
Or at least that is how my story goes.

poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Opened Once

(j.buckley)
I once was open, and one with a travelling heart.
I loved this sweet guy.
Just like a fiction rushing in your riverbed,
Arise like applause in my head.
And in the half-light, where we both stand
This is the half-light, see me as I am.
Just like the ocean, always in love with the moon,
Its overflowing now, inside you.
We fly right over the minds of so many in pain
We are the smile of light that brings them rain.
In the half-light, where we both stand
In the half-light, you saw me as I am.
I am a railroad track abandoned
With the sunset fogetting I ever happened,
That I ever happened.

song performed by by Jeff Buckley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Everything Is Broken

Broken lines, broken strings, broken threads, broken springs
Broken idols, broken heads, people sleeping in broken beds
Aint no use jivin, aint no use jokin
Everything is broken
Broken bottles, broken plates, broken switches, broken gates
Broken dishes, broken parts, streets are filled with broken hearts
Broken words never meant to be spoken
Everything is broken
Seems like every time you stop and turn around
Someone else has just hit the ground
Broken cutters, broken saws, broken buckles, broken laws
Broken bodies, broken bones, broken voices on broken phones
Take a deep breath, feel like youre chokin
Everything is broken
Every time you leave and go off some place
Things fall to pieces in my face
Broken hands on broken plows, broken treaties, broken vows
Broken pipes, broken tools, people bending broken rules
Hound dog howlin, bullfrog croakin
Everything is broken

song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Everything Is Broken

Broken lines, broken strings
Broken threads, broken springs,
Broken idols, broken heads,
People sleeping in broken beds.
Aint no use jiving,
Aint no use joking,
Everything is broken.
Broken bottles, broken plates,
Broken switches, broken gates,
Broken dishes, broken parts,
Streets are filled with broken hearts.
Broken words never meant to be spoken,
Everything is broken.
Seems like every time you stop and turn around
Something else just hit the ground
Broken cutters, broken saws,
Broken buckles, broken laws,
Broken bodies, broken bones,
Broken voices on broken phones
Take a deep breath, feel like youre chokin,
Everything is broken.
Every time you leave and go off someplace
Thangs fall to pieces in my face
Broken hands on broken ploughs,
Broken treaties, broken vows,
Broken pipes, broken tools,
People bending broken rules.
Hound dog howling, bull frog croaking,
Everything is broken.

song performed by by Kenny Wayne Shepherd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gone To The Movies

Now the rain comes down the windows and it
Drops onto the forehead of the waiting boy
He surveys his rental kingdom and he
Wonders if he's really lost his one joy

Another fool would go down to the
Only place she ever went to lose herself
She's gone to the movies now and she
Don't need your help

Now the rain turns into snowfall as the
City sky reflects the silver street below
And it covers up the cars and the Wall-
Flowers cd ended half an hour ago

Another fool would dig the broken car out from the snow
And drive to find the show
She's gone to the movies now and she's
Not coming home
She's gone to the movies now and she's
Not coming home

Now he looks around his place and anyways
There's nowhere she could sit besides the bed
And he wonders if the car will start tomorrow
Or he'll have to take the bus instead

Any other fool would be out on the roadway
Trying to spot her rusted Pontiac
She's gone to the movies now and she's
Not coming back
She's gone to the movies now and she's
Not coming back

song performed by by Semisonic from Feeling Strangely Fine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gate of Heaven

Through rolling green hills, in the bright winter dawn
together we’ll go to this wide winter lawn
over trails anointed by generations of tears
we’ll bring your still heart and at last face our fears.

For this is the field of our lingering pain
terminus for the somber parade
bodies blessed, broken and dressed for the grave.

But then, when the living have gone to warm homes,
you’ll stay in this place under the bright, cold dome
and wait ‘neath the grass of this wind-swept plain
for what will come next; your soul to rise once again.

For this is the field of our lingering pain
terminus for the somber parade
bodies blessed, broken and dressed for the grave.

poem by Steven Federle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We Just Come Here And Go - Original By Rabindranath Tagore

We just come here and go
And go with the time's flow!

We only see things
And touch while going
And look back crying!

Only new bleak hopes
Take our life forward!
We can see false hopes
If we look backward!

Broken strength carries endless desires
Both bright and dark
So broken output is obtained from
Do or die work!

We sail our broken boat in the sea with goods!
Our broken language can't express all moods!

Half acquaintance in our hearts!
Our half sentence needs more words!

In shame and fear our faith is half
So we offer only half love!

poem by Asif Andalib
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Scientific way of canal digging

The governments should adopt scientific way
Of canal digging with an eye to
Solve flood problem, mitigate irrigation crisis
And open up new avenue of fishery.

At first the area where flood water overflow
From the rivers should be pointed out
And nearby barren lands should be identified
Then maps of the required canals can be drawn.

Subsequently the canals should be dug up
From the last points of maps
Which will end at near the mouth of the canals
Then with the aim of joining the canals
With the rivers dynamite should be blasted off.

The government will compensate the people
Whose lands will be acquired for the project.

In this way
The government will be able to give its people
A great relief and satisfaction.

poem by Asif Andalib
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Younger Girls

Words and music by robin zander and rick nielsen
Try to bend me, try to shake me
Try and turn my head around
Oh try to change me, rearrange me
I think you know about the boy you found
A fantasy like this is hit and run
Younger girls
Oh how i love those younger girls
Younger girls
Oh how i love those younger girls
I had a dream about girls like you
You said call us, you'll get two
One for your money, two for the show
I'll give you something more
I know,i know,i know,i know
It's hard enough to make you wanna cry
Younger girls
Oh how i love those younger girls
Younger girls
Oh how i love those younger girls
It's hard enough to make you wanna cry
And it drives me out of my mind
I'm in love with you, baby
My poor innocent baby
Don't you say maybe
Younger girls
Oh how i love those younger girls
Younger girls
Oh how i love those younger girls
Feels so good, let me in
I might jump right out of my skin
Don't you ever grow up little girl
Sweet young thing, not so innocent
Younger girls
Oh how i love those younger girls
Younger girls
Oh how i love those younger girls
(repeat to coda)

song performed by by Cheap Trick
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I seem to roam

And still I seem to roam.
With my way lost.
And the path not on track.
So still I continue to roam.
I've lost the way back home.

My hart is heavy.
My heart is all but very sad.
My head is pounding.
But my hart is broken.
It will not heal.
Becuase I am left to roam.

All I do is roam.
Fighting coping on my own.
I've never felt so alone.
As I still continue to roam.
Facing each day as it comes.
Wishing it was the last.
I still continue to roam.

poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We Are But Mere Paths

we are but mere paths
where their shoes tread upon us
their umbrella tips their staff
they all touch our surfaces

during the rain
the waters run the drain
and we become not just the paths
of their stamping and running feet
we become their canals

we move through histories of men
we are their paths and their canals
we let their blood flow through us

we remain faithful to this tasks
taking glimpses of the face of God
we face the heavens
we believe in the falling of the stars

we are but paths
all histories of men's feet walk upon us
we are but the grasses
we bury their carcasses

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The King's Daughter

WE WERE ten maidens in the green corn,
Small red leaves in the mill-water:
Fairer maidens never were born,
Apples of gold for the king’s daughter.

We were ten maidens by a well-head,
Small white birds in the mill-water:
Sweeter maidens never were wed,
Rings of red for the king’s daughter.

The first to spin, the second to sing,
Seeds of wheat in the mill-water;
The third may was a goodly thing,
White bread and brown for the king’s daughter.

The fourth to sew and the fifth to play,
Fair green weed in the mill-water;
The sixth may was a goodly may,
White wine and red for the king’s daughter.

The seventh to woo, the eighth to wed,
Fair thin reeds in the mill-water;
The ninth had gold work on her head,
Honey in the comb for the king’s daughter.

The ninth had gold work round her hair,
Fallen flowers in the mill-water;
The tenth may was goodly and fair,
Golden gloves for the king’s daughter.

We were ten maidens in a field green,
Fallen fruit in the mill-water;
Fairer maidens never have been,
Golden sleeves for the king’s daughter.

By there comes the king’s young son,
A little wind in the mill-water;
“Out of ten maidens ye’ll grant me one,”
A crown of red for the king’s daughter.

“Out of ten mays ye’ll give me the best,”
A little rain in the mill-water;
A bed of yellow straw for all the rest,
A bed of gold for the king’s daughter.

He’s ta’en out the goodliest,
Rain that rains in the mill-water;
A comb of yellow shell for all the rest,
A comb of gold for the king’s daughter.

He’s made her bed to the goodliest,
Wind and hail in the mill-water;
A grass girdle for all the rest,
A girdle of arms for the king’s daughter.

He’s set his heart to the goodliest,
Snow that snows in the mill-water;
Nine little kisses for all the rest,
An hundredfold for the king’s daughter.

He’s ta’en his leave at the goodliest,
Broken boats in the mill-water;
Golden gifts for all the rest,
Sorrow of heart for the king’s daughter.

“Ye’ll make a grave for my fair body,”
Running rain in the mill-water;
“And ye’ll streek my brother at the side of me,”
The pains of hell for the king’s daughter.

poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Latin Girls

Mira mira mira mira mira....
Mira mira mira mira mira....
Mira mira mira mira mira....
Mira mira yo quiero
Cuban girls, Cuban girls, I like em'
Puerto Rican girls, Puerto Rican girls, yo quiero
Mexican girls, Mexican girls, yo quiero
Spanish girls, Spanish girls, I like em'
Girls, Girls, Latin girls
Latin girls, Latin girls
Latin girls, What's happenin' girls?
What's happenin' girl? What's happenin?
I like Latin dem Latin women (I do)
And they love me cause I'm that man
With cocoa nuts and chocolate skin
I'm that mocha masculine
Feminines that are Latin call ya friends
And call your cousins cause I know you got dozens of them
Marias, Elizabeths, Sonyas and Blancas
When I see ya you can get boned if ya wanta
Yo quiero en I'm sincero
If you never had an ichi let me be your primero
We can hit the channel we can dance the bolero
Have a shopping spree and you can spend my dinero
But...
I wish you was more like JLo
(my love don't cost) Cause love don't cost a thing
So why don't you let this king love the queen of Argentin
Girl you know I know you know what I mean
Cause I like them'
Cuban girls, Cuban girls, I like em'
Puerto Rican girls, Puerto Rican girls, yo quiero'
Mexican girls, Mexican girls, yo quiero'
Spanish girls, Spanish girls, I like em'
Girls, Girls, Latin girls'
Latin girls, Latin girls'
You makin me hot girl!
What's happnin' girl? What's happnin? (oh!)
Que un da
Que quieres con mi
Mira muchacha esta es para ti
Latina chicana por mi
Mas finas me gusta me a si
Mira ah, mira ah, mira ah, mami
Esperate, esperate, esperate aqui
We could connect

song performed by by Black Eyed Peas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This House is no Longer a Home

As I walk down the lonely street
Knees get weak, can barely keep my feet
I see the fence, the gate, the porch
From where you gazed and lit my torch
I see the house, the room, the bed
Your voice still ringing in my head
You said you didn't love anymore
And you walked out the door
The walls were painted antique white
Semi-gloss to bring in the light
Pictures hung on every wall
With memories of us all
Now the fence is falling, the flowers dying
Tears fall through the cracks from all the crying
The gate is broken and no one can come in
It's a shame even the birds won't sing
But this house is no longher a home
You chose freedom, you chose to roam
This house is no longer a home
Like a beer without foam
A classic car without chrome
You chose to roam
Now this house is no longer a home
I recall that first night
We made love in the full moonlight
Tfhe air was filled with ecstasy
Our moans sang a symphony
Our bodies became one
As we ventured till the morning sun
But love doesn't live here anymore
I can still hear the slamming of the door
I can feel the vibration of every picture frame
As I stand here wondering who's to blame

poem by Alfred Ramos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Souls Of Old Men

Inside their worn, tattered bodies
sit the souls of old men.
How unhappy the poor things are
and how bored by the pathetic life they live.
How they tremble for fear of losing that life, and how much
they love it, those befuddled and contradictory souls,
sitting -half comic and half tragic-
inside their old, threadbare skins.

poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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