Their Stolen Wives' blood
Sun of an obnoxious quarry as we seem
To be laughing—
Open throated frog princes all of the way
Up to the chandeliers—
While my mother waits in some awful
Mockery of a Pieta—
And the lamps bloom in the gold dusts of
The mines—
Another song mimics the song bird's,
As the traffic becomes utterly confused—
Losing itself into the darkness—
The mailman apexes, but he is no excuse
To me—
Lamp posts lining the streets of my adolescents,
As wicked men travel home after
The fireworks' pageantry—
Licking their stolen wives' bodies of
An adulterous
Apiary.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
In The Golden Dusts
Sun of an obnoxious quarry as we seem
To be laughing—
Open throated frog princes all of the way
Up to the chandeliers—
While my mother waits in some awful
Mockery of a Pieta—
And the lamps bloom in the gold dusts of
The mines—
Another song mimics the song bird's,
As the traffic becomes utterly confused—
Losing itself into the darkness—
The mailman apexes, but he is no excuse
To me—
Lamp posts lining the streets of my adolescents,
As wicked men travel home after
The fireworks' pageantry—
Licking their stolen wives' bodies of
An adulterous
Apiary.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Streets of My Adolescents
Sun of an obnoxious quarry as we seem
To be laughing—
Open throated frog princes all of the way
Up to the chandeliers—
While my mother waits in some awful
Mockery of a Pieta—
And the lamps bloom in the gold dusts of
The mines—
Another song mimics the song bird's,
As the traffic becomes utterly confused—
Losing itself into the darkness—
The mailman apexes, but he is no excuse
To me—
Lamp posts lining the streets of my adolescents,
As wicked men travel home after
The fireworks' pageantry—
Licking their stolen wives' bodies of
An adulterous
Apiary.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Frog Princes
Sun of an obnoxious quarry as we seem
To be laughing—
Open throated frog princes all of the way
Up to the chandeliers—
While my mother waits in some awful
Mockery of a Pieta—
And the lamps bloom in the gold dusts of
The mines—
Another song mimics the song bird's,
As the traffic becomes utterly confused—
Losing itself into the darkness—
The mailman apexes, but he is no excuse
To me—
Lamp posts lining the streets of my adolescents,
As wicked men travel home after
The fireworks' pageantry—
Licking their stolen wives' bodies of
An adulterous
Apiary.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Listen to The Song of Invisible Bird!
Listen to The Song of that invisible bird,
The Song of great singer several souls heard,
Sings sitting on tree of life, hidden under every leaf,
Its song go unheard by those pretend deaf,
Ever tuned to that great music,
Everytime it sings same song,
But with different lyrics and different words,
Autumn may come followed by spring,
Leaves may fall to make way to new,
Each leaf has that song, the bird flies under cover of green leaf,
When old yellow one fall,
Green leaves should learn from the fall of the old!
One can wait flowers to bloom,
Or can reap all fruits mature,
or remove immature buds or raw fruits,
The tree of life spread to several worlds,
One parallel to other,
Makes one world happy by another,
some may cross and intersect,
only to give or take life!
Come an sit near a flower,
Look at frog waiting for insects to come,
The invisible bird sings its song,
May it be heart of the flower,
It is flower for you,
source of nectar to insects,
place where frog gets its food!
It is cage for that bird ready to fly,
enters as nectar into insect,
and it enters frog as insects,
and moves along food chain,
It may be invisible to these eyes,
Yet it has its flight can be seen,
Look at your heart, the same bird sing,
Who knows when and where is its next flight?
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Separation
the streets
rushing winding blinding
blind corner open centred
high on the hills beyond them
the man is sitting alone
down the blocks against them
the woman is feeding the baby
the cradle is singing the song
the laughter is singing among
the streets the windings binding
the hands into traffic lights
zebra crossing to the other sides
do you hear them
rush footsteps feet soles
concrete licking
they never know
who's come who's gone who's come along
hours of a baby a man and a woman
ticking against the hills so tearful
or sobbing within a guilty home
will he step down
will she come up
to hear a baby laughter between
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Alone in grief, alone in thought, alone
[The Pieta’]
alone in grief, alone in thought, alone
the mother stood, the mother wept,
small, silent, tearless tears at the brim
that never came:
The Pieta’
Around the gloom, around the dark, and hopelessness
She held her son a piece of flesh
Alone in grief, alone in thought she stood
The Pieta’
She saw him hit, she saw him fall, his eyes
She closed herself; hers the last kiss
Hers the last touch, farewell:
Alone in grief, alone in thought she stood
Pieta’
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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Melodious song
The autumn’s presence has come on strong
The old bull frog’s tweedling his drone
And the bird chirrups and seems to belong
All in a melodious song
In this melodious song
The squirrels fidget behind the pine combs
The owl’s hooting joins right along
A woodpecker is pecking a hymn unknown
All in a melodious song
In this melodious song
And on the ground, I am prone
For I can’t find where I belong
I’m never happy, never strong
For this tune sounds horrible with groans
All in a melodious song
In this melodious song
But what if my purpose, my purpose is known?
To just sometimes listen to this cheerful song
And let it inspire me, all of these tones
All in a melodious song
In this melodious song!
poem by Whitney Albright
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Where I Belong
The autumn’s presence has come on strong
The old bull frog’s tweedling his drone
And the bird's chirrups seem to belong
All in a melodious song
In this melodious song
The squirrels fidget behind the pine combs
The owl’s hooting joins right along
A woodpecker is pecking a hymn unknown
All in a melodious song
In this melodious song
And on the ground, I am prone
For I can’t find where I belong
I’m never happy, never strong
For this tune sounds horrible with groans
All in a melodious song
In this melodious song
But what if my purpose, my purpose is known?
To just sometimes listen to this cheerful song
And let it inspire me, all of these tones
All in a melodious song
In this melodious song!
poem by Whitney Albright
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Gotta Watch Your Greenbacks
The jungle,
All leafy glory in one deadly place.
A boastful frog, his monotone drowning out all around him.
Each jungle bird jockey's for a spot in the song,
All syncing to the ripple of the stream.
The arrogant frog, with his ramblings.
Thwarts the beautiful song.
How unhappy is he?
poem by Nightmist Moonshade
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Farewell Little Bird
Little bird,
why are you so lonely?
Did you not like your home
that I have prepared for you?
Look! it's made of gold!
Can't you see?
I have given you
the nicest place to live
because
you are so dear to me.
Little bird
please sing me a song,
the one
that I have heard from you
the day I saw you in the forest
before I made you mine.
Little bird,
why are you still lonely?
Is my heart for you
not enough?
Do you really want your life
back in the forest? ....
Little bird,
there you are!
now, spread your wings
I'm setting you free.....
Little bird,
I'd rather let you go
and see your happiness,
than keep you beside me
and see your loneliness.
Farewell little bird.
I wish
to hear your song again
......in the forest.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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Song
I would like to write a song
That is so vibrant and so intimate
That the earth would adopt it
As if it had sprung like the stream
From the lands memory
As if no one had written it but life itself
And my song would travel along
From bird to wing, to tree
To breeze to heart to breath to song
Because a song belongs to everyone
Like the spring
song performed by by Vangelis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Song
I would like to write a song
That is so vibrant and so intimate
That the earth would adopt it
As if it had sprung like the stream
From the lands memory
As if no one had written it but life itself
And my song would travel along
From bird to wing, to tree
To breeze to heart to breath to song
Because a song belongs to everyone
Like the spring
song performed by by Vangelis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The sing of song
it's a song without title
a song without word
a song without sound
a song in our eyes
a song in our ears
a song in our hands
a song in our feet
We are singing the song
without title
a nameless song
It's a distant song
It's a future song
A song who says:
beyond future, beyond distances,
beyond nothing, beyond always
a song in a single colour
that we don't see
many colours
much colours
unknown colours
this was
a song of your mother
a song of your grandmothers
a song of one very old woman
Sleep, sleep my little love
Dream, dream my little love
when you close open your wide eyes
poem by Jean Francois Le Goff
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Evensong
It is late, on a cold, dark, wintry afternoon;
Up high in a tree, a small bird merrily croons.
Trade in the town, has now begun to wind down,
And taking centre stage, is the bird’s sweet sound.
Like an operatic singer, his voice soars high,
And his song delights many, as they pass by.
Your ears can not help, but hear his loud call,
As the sun, once again, sets and darkness falls.
He sings for joy, at the very top of his voice;
To listen to his song, you have little choice.
He sits at the very top of the tallest tree,
Singing so loudly; his heart full of glee.
His plaintive call pierces the cool air,
As he sings his song, without a care.
A pure quality, his sweet song holds,
And he sings it out, so bright and bold.
His singsong attracts many a nice comment;
His performance appears to be Heaven sent.
Of his captivated audience, he is unaware;
His song boasts beauty, beyond compare.
Like a church choir, as they sing evensong,
This small bird sings so very keen and strong.
Through the dark streets, home, I wearily wind;
Sad to be leaving the bird’s sweet song behind.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Brooding Grief
A yellow leaf from the darkness
Hops like a frog before me.
Why should I start and stand still?
I was watching the woman that bore me
Stretched in the brindled darkness
Of the sick-room, rigid with will
To die: and the quick leaf tore me
Back to this rainy swill
Of leaves and lamps and traffic mingled before me.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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So what are you doing with your life now?
She says
She stares blankly on the wall
She is busy
Counting the lamp posts on the streets
She is so busy
She thinks God is preparing something
Grand for her and she is so busy
Too preparing something for God
Who prepares for her.
I am amazed
I ask her
“So, did you stare long enough on that blank wall
Was it really blank? Did you really stare?
What made the wall so blank? Is the stare really
Worth making on a blank wall?
And how many lamp posts have you counted?
Is the street filled with lamp posts?
How is God? When will the preparation last?
How are you doing with God? Is God busy too? ”
She is a little bit understanding to my way of thinking.
“There you are making a poem again. You have never changed.”
She said.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Song of the World
such a wonderful song
song of life
song of death
wedding song
famine song
happy song
sad song
love song
all-american song
bullshit song
druggie song
girls' song
sweet song
crazy song
MY song
poem by Rachel Stoddard
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Winter's Song
I was scooting through the blind white streets
A song, the song, whispered in my ears
The song of winter, of joy and fears
Frozen stiff where sanity retreats
The snow blew, as blizzard winds ought to
Abreast my face, chiseling with might
So there I howled at the moon’s delight
Ignoring the child sledding through
My next steps teetered toward minty moors
Though I found a dear, I chased my hart
Through a wicked twisting trail apart
From dear tidings due from you and yours
Here I did learn what it means to roam
Then turned and hummed winter’s song back home
poem by Jay Bradley
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A Song Of Joy
as a bird on the streets
i had a natural song
which came right from my heart
in my voice
which was graced by god
as a bird on the stage
in front of a gathering
a mic frightening me
i seem to have lost my voice..yet
to keep the cheer going
iam compelled to sing a song
which is not mine
i haven't gathered a crowd
who would applaud my silence even
i sing a song without joy
to keep the cheer going
i know i don't have to try too hard
to escape the situation
i still have my wings to fly
which would take me to the meadows
a song of joy i could sing there
my soul would listen
poem by Samanyan Lakshminarayanan
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Happy Frog With a Song.
Happy Frog With a Song.
Hehe, it’s green and happy,
Look, he’s even laughing!
Smiles and giggles escaped from me,
Frogs like this one are special and sweet.
What’s your name little frog?
Robert he said, and I have a song.
La La’s were let forth,
Then came a snort snort.
Robert’s mouth opened wide,
And then, he choked on a fly.
-Bethany Jeffreys
poem by Bethany Jeffreys
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