Related quotes: Beneath the weight of London’s...

To Much Time On My Hands

Beneath the weight of London’s streets,
Where aged sinews pulse and beat,
Down below old blitz kreig fodder,
Beneath the lines that tube trains follow,
In earthen pits of crumpled bone,
That decaying bare ill fruit and grow,
Around amongst the roots of trees,
Which suckle on their crimson feed,
Beneath rubber wheel and toot of horn,
Under strike of sole and paving stone,
In diggers jaws of crunching teeth,
That allow perhaps a fleeting glimpse,
Of spirit and a victims guts,
Of air raid brick and Anderson nuts,
Exhumed for only daylight minutes,
By hard hat wearing high viz jackets,
Only then once being chewed,
Into the earth reintroduced,
Without ceremony or hint of feeling
Just an epitaph devoid of meaning

poem by John Baldwin
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Related quotes

Cowtown

Im going down to cowtown
The cows a friend to me
Lives beneath the ocean and thats where I will be
Beneath the waves, the waves
And thats where I will be
Im gonna see the cow beneath the sea
The yellow roosevelt avenue leaf overturned
The ardor of arboreality is an adventure we have spurned, weve spurned
A new leaf overturned
Its a new leaf overturned
And so Im going down to cowtown
The cows a friend to me
Lives beneath the ocean and thats where I will be
Beneath the waves, the waves
And thats where I will be
Im gonna see the cow beneath the sea
We yearn to swim for home, but our only home is bone
How sleepless is the egg knowing that which throws the stone
Foresees the bone, the bone
Our only home is bone
Our only home is bone
And so Im going down to cowtown
The cows a friend to me
Lives beneath the ocean and thats where I will be
Beneath the waves, the waves
And thats where I will be
Im gonna see the cow beneath the sea
Yes Im going down to cowtown
The cows a friend to me
Lives beneath the ocean and thats where I will be
Beneath the waves, the waves
And thats where I will be
Im gonna see the cow beneath the sea
Yes Im gonna see (Im gonna see)
The cow (the cow)
Beneath the sea

song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Natasha in the Snow

For Natasha Richardson 2009

Beneath the snow
lie rocks and stones
that have no surprises
but hardness.

Beneath the skull
lie blood and bone
that hide possibilities
in softness.

Two surfaces collide
in chance and time
spaces are filled
with the heaviness
and swell of blood

pressure pushing tight
Cranium restrictive
enclosed and held
brain coning
no oxygen drive
to breath
no ventricle beat
to pulse

Pupils fixed and dilated
no more response
no more subtle irony
nothing more
no-one.

poem by M.L. Emmett
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter XLII: What Lies Beneath

beauty lies beneath
sense lies beneath
secret lies beneath
character lies beneath
rule lies beneath
mind lies beneath
past lies beneath
foundation lies beneath
root lies beneath
dark hole lies beneath

poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Beneath The Skin

Beneath the Skin a caustic red river
Beneath the Skin corrosive abuser
Beneath the Skin genetic in rupture
Beneath the Skin all cold and hungered
Beneath the Skin a still born forgiveness
Beneath the Skin cell transfer in whispers
Beneath the Skin a lover cries murder
Beneath the Skin all cold and hungered
Beneath the Skin i wasted this moment
Beneath the Skin old undiscovered
Beneath the Skin another lies ruptured
Beneath the Skin all cold and hungered

song performed by by Queen Adreena
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Last Descending Overtones

With each descending step I hear the beat
of sacrificial chants of those who know.
The stone is cold and grey beneath my feet.

The pungent smell is damp and bittersweet.
Within these halls the music seems to flow,
with each descending step I hear the beat.

The altar room is secret and discrete,
with eerie chants that truly seem to grow.
The stone is cold and grey beneath my feet.

Author notes -
Villanelle:
A Villanelle is a nineteen-line poem consisting of a very specific rhyming scheme:
aba aba aba aba aba abaa.
The first and the third lines in the first stanza are repeated in alternating order throughout the poem, and appear together in the last couplet (last two lines) .
Form Resource: shadowpoetry.com

My wrists are bound, a feeling of defeat,
a severed heart to feed the gods libido.
With each descending step I hear the beat.

My time has come this act will not repeat,
I hear the chants and see the lamps aglow.
The stone is cold and grey beneath my feet.

My heart becomes the sacrificial meat
as now my life approaches its crescendo.
With each descending step I hear the beat,
the stone is cold and grey beneath my feet.

poem by Amera Andersen
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Stranded (Lyrics)

Your waves come crashing down
Like a semi-auto trailer
I dive so deep in the sea
To avoid killer whales
A perfect moment here and gone
It has sailed
I'll use a hammerhead to drive
Rusty nail inside

I'm feeling the sea beneath me, beneath you
I'm feeling the sea beneath you, beneath me

Imagine if our world was blue and weightless
I never meant to do wrong to you
You're my starfish

You moan a tone so low beyond me
A telepathic sub-sonic frequency
I need a little air for emergency
You have to understand this urgency

I'm feeling the sea beneath me, beneath you
White sand beneath my feet
No brain between my ears
I'm feeling the sea beneath you, beneath me
I know that if I had one
I'd spare us both these years

A sea anemone, you're my enemy

poem by Satan's Sibling
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Poetry

These words are not porcelain

Nor are they sculpted from a certain glass

Nor do they shine even after the hour is passed

But they break like flesh and bone

They are a metaphor

For china

For fragile things

And underneath lies the poetry

Beneath the skin

It lives and breathes

Some senses burn hot

Some passion dry cold

But beneath the tempest

Lies the still hour glass

Of all thats told

And these words are the flesh and the bone

The lines in your head

The shadow in the photograph

The stories you have lived

For who can read you, after words?

Who can know the journey you have taken?

Or understand such imprints in the sand?

And yet they the live and leave their sign

In the body of one life

yvette smith feb 09

poem by Yvette Smith
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Don't stand aloof

We stand aloof and watch their crimes
Taking the lives of leaders to be
Just because they own the guns
And the knives to scare us all,
London streets are not for crimes,
London streets are ours to claim.

Let us stand against their crimes,
Re-claim the streets that belong to us,
Why must we stand and watch their crimes
Allowing the guns to rule our streets
And ruin the lives of those we love
London streets belong to us.

Drop your guns, dropp your knives,
Drop all the wrapped up drugs.
Free London streets from deaths of youths
Unnecessary and wasteful deaths.
London streets belong to all
London streets is for all to share.
Why must we just stand aloof?

poem by Enitan Onikoyi
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Beneath All Else...

beneath my feet
i hide my shadows and
they escape like
fugitives
under the guises
of their
sad stories

beneath my hands
i clasp my emptiness
and shaped like a ball
you mistake it for
fullness

you are confused
and i look amazed
still unfazed by your
feigned confidences

beneath my hair
i hide my thoughts
beneath my skull
i hide my soul

beneath my beliefs
i hide a number of faces
beneath my heart
i tell love stories

beneath all these
are the shallowness of them all
something that nobody expects
for i am simple
as a yellow paper
where you list
your bad debts

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Trains

Here I am at the end of the day
With a cup of cold coffee
From the station buffet.
On trains, on trains I seem
To spend my life on trains.
See the blue suit banker in the ticket line.
Got an evening standard with playboy
Hidden behind.
On trains, on trains he seems
To spend his life on trains.
Time after time.
Was I just dreaming?
Did I help you aboard?
Full passenger service ---
Let me help with the door.
Sit down take the weight off your feet.
Theres a train full of people Id like
You to meet.
On trains, on trains we love
To spend our lives on trains.
Join the secret world of trains.
Feel the pleasure. touch the pain.
Drift into yesterday.
Once and again
I was just thinking.
We could meet sometime
On the 17.30 where
I usually find
My friends at the end of the day.
May we pay your fare, lady?
We should like you to stay
In our train. on trains ---
Youll have to spend your life
On trains.
I hear theres an office party on the 18.05.
Youll be home for christmas if they
Take you alive from the train.
Those trains, we have to spend our lives
On trains.
Once and again
I was just thinking.
We could meet any time
On number two platform
Where I usually find
My friends at the end of the day.
On trains, trains, trains.

song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There's Milk Beneath This Poem

there's milk beneath this poem, and blood
aswirl, like a marble cake of moments half-baked;
there's blood beneath this poem, and tears
unmixed like oil in a rain barrel of thoughts;
there's tears beneath this poem, and come
awash with a million squirming attempts to awaken;
there's come beneath this poem, and the sea
unforgiving, with its undertow of fears, unknown and unsought.

there's milk beneath this poem, and silent screams
unheard for years and moments, draping the hallways;
there's silent screams beneath this poem, and mad laughter
adrift in the corrridors of the family myth, undone;
there's mad laughter beneath this poem, and choking sobs
unmoving in my throat, like a chicken bone, unloved, always;
there's choking sobs beneath this poem, and gnashing teeth
awash with the bitter taste of sweet defeat, like bile, or yesterday's onions.

there's milk beneath this poem, and time
like the blank white page before me;
there's time beneath this poem, and space
where the emptiness is reborn as room to move;
there's space beneath this poem, and thought
rumbling like the very voice of god himself, imploring that
there's thought beneath this poem, and all
is like nothing else, so much as the need to love;

there's milk beneath this poem, and all
the death on earth can't change that.

poem by Christo Andrus
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London Tube Trains (Are Like Worms!)

London Tube Trains are like Worms,
They are even shaped like worms,
They live underground like Worms do,
Eating into the heart of the capital,
Like worms eating into an apple.

poem by Rachel Porter
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Magic Beneath

There is a fire beneath me that is ready to burst
It cannot be seen by the naked eye
I cannot explain why or how
It simply rages beneath my soul

It is slowly exploding
The magic inside me
The magic beneath my heart
The spell that makes my heart beat
Faster and slower at the same time

It gives an uncoditional warmness
Making me strong inside and out
Making me to do things
Never been done

The feeling raging through my eyes
Making me want to scream
Letting out everything

Confused, Worried
Will this magic come out?
Come beneaht me
Raging through out the world
Raging beneath me...

poem by Karima Puzon
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London,1957-2010

Glad to be on a train heading north,
Away from ‘London of the uncouth’,
Where the milk of kindness ceased to flow
Such a long, long time ago.

Malnourished souls rushing to and fro
Always in a hurry, somewhere to go,
With no time to spare for me and you.
We hear of the war years, the blitz too,
Of friendships forged and good deeds to do,
But this is a far cry from the London I know.
Could it be that time made Londoners so,
Or is it me who has a blinkered view.

poem by Isam Hussain
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Famous Movie Poem - The Reader

it pays to strip and to be read to
naked lines of old classics we can
turn and twist to fire up our fantasies
like the warm blanket on us, lines that
need no word to portray the passions
shrouding us yet revealing us to things
we never thought would be possible

your lips that read all the lines have
turned every sensuous word into walkies
blazing over the the contour of desires,
amplifier of longings, mersmerising
soft crevice a power packed dormant
volcano waits to blast all its molten years

and beneath them, beneath them
a burning secret that one day would
rummage through all the words to send
you and the world reeling with pain

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Glucose

Password forever
demeanor restored
thank...pleased
trains and planes
automatic pistols
trains and saying
all predictable
too much and never
tube tops and hair mops

mirror
mirror
mirror

jus tice bred and free
I need I need I need

poem by Jason Leigh
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Subconciously

at the surface is a roy
could be roy something else
you face him
beneath a roy could be a jerry something
that you have met but could not fully
remember
you are determined not to be confused
and so you focus on the road that the the yellow bus is taking you
it is nothing but imagination
you are in the house
doing nothing because writing is actually nothing
beneath you is someone else and it
(a thing or something) is telling you what to write
you are not alarmed
it is nothing it is nothing but words and words are nothing
as a matter of familiarity
beneath your mind is the heart
beneath that heart are so many things
you try to enumerate names
and more names
and places
until you reach a certain marker, shades of red,
pathways of veins, flowing blood, all kept and contained
within the sound system
and then you look at your hands
beneath it
someone so lovely and beautiful
someone you desired for long
beneath you

and then you stop.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Canadian born

We first saw light in Canada, the land beloved of God;
We are the pulse of Canada, its marrow and its blood:
And we, the men of Canada, can face the world and brag
That we were born in Canada beneath the British flag.

Few of us have the blood of kings, few are of courtly birth,
But few are vagabonds or rogues of doubtful name and worth;
And all have one credential that entitles us to brag--
That we were born in Canada beneath the British flag.

We've yet to make our money, we've yet to make our fame,
But we have gold and glory in our clean colonial name;
And every man's a millionaire if only he can brag
That he was born in Canada beneath the British flag.

No title and no coronet is half so proudly worn
As that which we inherited as men Canadian born.
We count no man so noble as the one who makes the brag
That he was born in Canada beneath the British flag.

The Dutch may have their Holland, the Spaniard have his Spain,
The Yankee to the south of us must south of us remain;
For not a man dare lift a hand against the men who brag
That they were born in Canada beneath the British flag.

poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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Faded Words Among the Footprints

Mystic beneath the moonlight beckons
Forever humbled at my feet
The shooting star that rises in the heavens
To only fall upon the light of flint and bone
To break away the burdens of the flesh
Within the light of Heaven's soul
Am I forever humbled by the swaying in the breeze
As the lonesome traveller
Comes to pass amongst us in the trees?
For now the light has faded
Beneath the beat of Heaven's wings
The sound of angels singing
Within the depths of my very heart
As the tears fall from the heavens
Will my soul be swept away?
In the distance there's a beacon
That lights the passage of my way
Only in the shadow shall I wait
For the light of the rising day
Swept away by life's sweet sorrow
Beneath the light of Heaven cleft
Where I wait within the light of gentle slumber
Where the footprints leave no mark
Be still my beating heart for I am forever humbled
By the light within my soul

poem by Darryn John Murphy
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London

It was november 4th
I last held your hand
It seemed our time would last forever
You said dont ever leave
I thought youd never go
I wish I could just remember your name...
Youre just a memory now
Like all the ones before
But with your pain Ive had to suffer
Your eyes alight with flame
As the picture burns
I hear the screams from long ago
They cry remember, blood-red streaks on
Velvet throats at night
The streetlights fanned our trail of fame
Through
London london
The memories will never leave me
London london
All I see is you
London london
The cries in the night
Keep bringing me to
London london
Calling out to me
Oh theres some things in life I could never face
The worst is being alone
Sometimes I wish I could have taken your
Place my love
You know I dont want to live forever
Oh let me see you standing in the
Shadows once again
Well walk the streets like long ago in
London london
The fire in your eyes will be bringing me to
London london
All I need is you
The cries in the night keep ringing on in
London london
Calling out to you

song performed by by Queensryche
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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